new year rising

after a long year
of consistently
lowering expectations
the last page of
the calendar seems
a fitting tinder
for striking the fire
to consume the next
in a maelstrom of
unbridled desires
long left neglected

no longer hiding
in a kingdom of ash
fearing failure until
the fear of attempting
became all consuming
settling for these
silhouetted mirages
submerged in silence
dreamwhispered hopes
that fade in the face
of any actual effort
just empty words
half muttered as an
attempt at pacifying

the logical fallacy
where the new year
is meant to represent
a new you or a fresh
start ignoring the
madness of believing
an arbitrary number
is compulsion enough
to instigate any
meaningful change when
the last who knows
how many have been
just more of the same

i am a slow learner
needing my own time
to come to terms with
my eventual surrender
gathering the ashes of
another failed year
calculating just how
far backwards i went
in an infinity of
letting my heart guide
the path through the
brambles rather than
following the clearly
marked trails ahead

another revolution of
the sun comes to an end
as we wobble into the
next with no hesitation
a cyclical madness of
expecting change in
a repetition of the same
self destructive actions
with a new number branded
to keep the failures
separated by date so
it is easier to assign
new excuses for remaining
exactly as we were before


2 thoughts on “new year rising

  1. “Letting my heart guide the way through the brambles instead of…..” I have been thinking lately that those journeys off the clearly marked paths have much to teach me , that the shadows I find there can somehow inform my way on the clearly marked path.

    I found this quote from the poet Robert Bly recently:

    ” when we are young, we carry behind us an invisible bag, into which we stuff any feelings, thought or behaviours that bring disapproval or loss of love- anger, tears, neediness, laziness. By the time we go to school, our bags are already a mile long. In high school our peer groups pressure us to stuff the bags with even more-individuality, sexuality, spontaneity,different opinions.
    We spend our life until we’re twenty deciding which parts of ourselves to put into the bag and we spend the rest of our lives trying to get them out again.”

    Have been hanging out in the brambles trying to find some gold in those shadows, or at least starting to undo the knot on the “bag” before I head back to the clearly marked path.

    One day at a time. :). Blessings my friend.

    Liked by 1 person

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