The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
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    Words to Live By

    Nine years and one day later, maybe we all need a break of the politicization of 9-11. It is always easy to reflect, when reading anything by Ms. Angelou

    In and Out of Time

    Maya Angelou

    In and Out of Time Maya Angelou
    The sun has come.
    The mist has gone.
    We see in the distance...
    our long way home.
    I was always yours to have.
    You were always mine.
    We have loved each other in and out of time.
    When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun
    and the first tree struggled up from the forest floor
    I had always loved you more.
    You freed your braids...
    gave your hair to the breeze.
    It hummed like a hive of honey bees.
    I reached in the mass for the sweet honey comb there....
    Mmmm...God how I love your hair.

    You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance.
    Lost, injured, hurt by chance.
    I screamed to the heavens....loudly screamed....
    Trying to change our nightmares to dreams...
    The sun has come.
    The mist has gone.
    We see in the distance our long way home.
    I was always yours to have.
    You were always mine.
    We have loved each other
    in and out
    in and out
    in and out of time.