A poem for the New Year

Circles intertwining

The hands of time inching–


Moving automatically,

With neither knowing nor


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


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


and tocking

And inching

Of hands on a clock,


Like they’ve always done


And like they always will

With neither knowing nor


Circles intertwining

For all eternity–

On and on–

As if nothing changes.

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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