Tiny speck too small to see is circling the sun at unimaginable speeds
A single revolution just looks like the arm of a clock- one minute
Every cell in every body
nothing is the same
Emotions drawn up from crossing the oceans of faces each day
The musician, revolutionary, marrionette, and that dumb cat.
These morphing faces and ever changing landscapes are foolish to be seen as repeating
we are only lost when nostalgic (excuse my tangents)
back to this speck stuffed with nervous energy caused by
And therefore, the same.
On the surface, the fluctuation of anxiety, new classes, new faces, new emotional barriers
Mammoth events here on earth are a second in the galactic clock of infinity
so when an explosion of events occurs in a millisecond
I step back and realize that not much has mattered
there's meetings and outings and conflicts and more
when I remember to breathe (for once in this minute of a year)
I can romanticize the musician, revolutionary, marrionette, and all
everything can be placed into a symphony of beauty and this year is a masterpiece
last year was an idiot, this one overcompensated.
Every bit of these seconds have meaning I've placed into them
perhaps childish to accommodate my mistakes
I love these years and the pain they create
even if just to cope with the change.