In the still of the night alone I listen
standing at the summit of the old year
thankful it is gone, and I am still here-
even yet gasping for breath over things that have passed
mentally-
glad they are in the past,
and tho tempted, I turn not back around to see
the stumbling path traversed thus far.
For my efforts of the climb, surely would show in my wake,
each drop of blood, tears, and sweat
highlighting every glaring mistake.
So sights are not whats needed here,
but sound.
Laughter
silver in it's intensity
Calling forward to me
surrounding what might have been my faint heart,
with shields of joy, forged by beloved voices
mingled with my own.
Lending that power to stand still
in the midst of that mighty rushing wind
in a moment when the new year, just hours old,
begins to pierce the void and creates itself,
for and by
us.
to once again, begin the climb...
OUI?
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