There once was a golden, unfailing tomorrow that was pledged and oh-so promised.  I thought it was promised to me. But, perhaps, I was the promiser.  Or were we co-promisers pledging one to the other?  Did you find your tomorrow?  Did it come through?  Did it come true?  Perhaps my pledge was just a cry in your wilderness.  A cry heard by others - with you, attended to.   Perhaps my wilderness was just a projection of my dreams - with the cry I heard just the fleeting, teasing witness of that ole Coyote.

My poor tomorrow.  It crept like a lame-feigning runner toward a distant, already-abandoned finish line.  It crept like a social coward away from a mess of interpersonal confrontation.  It crept like a night crawler into a dark place untouched by a sunrise of illuminating fruitions.  My poor tomorrow, alas, couldn't (especially) keep a good (wo)man down.

So, what's up, buttercup?   Whad'ya say?  It's time to kick some tomorrow-kissing ass.  Warrior-style today.