Everything old is new again
round and round
seasons abound
to the end of an era
and onward roll

Patterns and rhythms
from seconds to minutes
to each anniversal limit
and once more into the breach
of the future

There’s something about each first
each last
each threshold
each doorway
into the next cycle
the next chamber of time

A blending of what was
with what’s to be
fusion of hypothetical and history

Memories of what cannot return
echoing somehow
in gentle feathers touching senses now
and glimpsed in the unformed clay ahead

And we dream them into existence
with one eye on yesterday
one eye on tomorrow
both feet planted
toes wriggling
against the gritty path of the present

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