Muva came to me in a dream.
As I lay not yet sleep, not yet awake
blanketed in the comfort of loneliness.
The familiar pillow of desolation, tears of
Need flowing down my face.
We are here again.
She stroked my hair and asked why I grieved.
“It did not work, Muva,” I cried.
“It did not work. But I chose. Muva I chose.”
She touched a tear and handed me the diamond that formed.
“Dahling, what did you lose?
“You did not wait. You chose. You are your own.
“Now go forth, and Choose Again.”