Keeping Your Head

         A poem  to keep our perspective when things become a bit hectic.

         Let's  keep our attention on what really counts.

        When the fuss is all over, and the candles have burned out.

         What will we remember?

        The genuine smile , the person who had time to listen, the
        warm glow from true love in a friend's eyes.
         



                                           If

               IF you can keep your head when all about you
               Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
               If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
               But make allowance for their doubting too;
               If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
               Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
               Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
               And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

               If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
               If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
               If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
               And treat those two impostors just the same;
               If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
               Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
               Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
               And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

              If you can make one heap of all your winnings
              And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
              And lose, and start again at your beginnings
              And never breathe a word about your loss;
              If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
              To serve your turn long after they are gone,
              And so hold on when there is nothing in you
              Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

              If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
              Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
              If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
              If all men count with you, but none too much;
              If you can fill the unforgiving minute
              With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
              Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
              And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

                                   Rudyard Kipling