Inspired by Rimbaud

It rained a bit today.  The perfect end to a completely imperfect week.  But the week's not over yet.  No, there are two or three days (depending on how you count days) left.  And after this week, another week comes, and another, and another.  Yet, for whatever reason, I cannot see into those future weeks; I can only look at them.  I know things are to be happening, but I cannot see the finer details.  It's all a vague idea (like the math I have to learn for the prelim).  Or I could look at the patterns, but the more I look at them, the more in danger I am of falling into the current.  I love spontaneity.  The unknown of the next "big" event in my life, whoever the next key player in my life will be.  I know who I want it to be.  I'm just scared.