Happy New Year…to me at least.
Birthdays bring new years’ timely beasts.
Dawn of the new; dusk of the old.
Repurposed holidays make bold.
A crack of light bears possible.
Three sixty-five: cognoscible.
Intention set ahead of now.
Styled by precognition knowhow.
Shaped by the past & poured into…
A future; waiting limp, askew.
Born of petty & born of cruel.
I’m forged in prideful constant duel.
With time & gnosis making wise…
I fill my sails with present lies.
This day’s used up & falling dark.
On new year’s number, I embark.