Eclipsed, Of Course

A change came over me. Over the anger. Anger of long time standing. Not the place.
I sat at a picnic table at a park. Felt lucky to get a few good shots of birds flitting by.
I'd felt so lucky to have met Francesca but have gotten confused. And too attached.
With a void in my life in this regard, understandable, but not completely appropriate.

We watched the partial eclipse today. A coincidence. Nothing cosmic, right? Right.
She was exited. I enjoyed her enthusiasm more than the event itself! Precious.
Some droll humor about primitives and the end of the world. Recall of "Longitude".
Mention of the Magi. Chaldean astronomers. And a moment not imparted. Too much.

That's just it. Inserting someone into your own 'idea of reference'... delusion.
A matter of fact where there is no substantial relationship. Ours is fleeting.
A business transaction, drama part of deal. It was understood; nothing personal.
But there is no other person in my life, nor anyone so interesting and vivacious as she.

What a case we are in. Comic relief? How to impart? How to be? How to feel OK?

It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but 

it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it 

be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play 

needs no epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and 

good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. 

What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot 

insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not 

furnish'd like a beggar; therefore to beg will not become me. My 

way is to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge 

you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of 

this play as please you; and I charge you, O men, for the love 

you bear to women- as I perceive by your simp'ring none of you 

hates them- that between you and the women the play may please.

If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that 

pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defied not; 

and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet
breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell.

As You Like it - Epilogue

Well, took a shot of the phenomenon in the sky. Not equipped for 'perfection', eh?

Nor are we perfect. Nor could I to provide for her as I'd like. Ugh; deluded?
Yet the Good Lord works in mysterious ways, they say. Dear Lord, see me through.
So many patients I've had in so much turmoil. All I could say was God will provide.
Again, don't want to make too much of a pleasantly amicable circumstance. Keep it.