A poem for the New Year

Circles intertwining

The hands of time inching–

centimetering?–

Moving automatically,

With neither knowing nor

feeling,

Acting like it’s always done before.

Everything is

As it always had been

(At least for Time)

Nothing changes.

People running–

zipping, zooming–

Through lines, lanes,

aisles and dreams,

Trying to beat a self-imposed

deadline

That doesn’t even know it exists.

They believe that

Things will change

As soon as the clock strikes Twelve–

A New Year, a new leaf, a new life–

But what is life

If not the continuous

Ticking

and tocking

And inching

Of hands on a clock,

Moving

Like they’ve always done

before

And like they always will

With neither knowing nor

Feeling.

Circles intertwining

For all eternity–

On and on–

As if nothing changes.

Untitled
Nina Terol-Zialcita
30 December 2011

(After watching My Own Love Song and lying sick on the last weekend of the year)

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