This Year Will It Will Be Different
A New Year by Sheldon James
This year it will be different.
There is promise in it yet.
More good than not.
Time to heal from loss.
To be loved, to be needed.
And if that’s not possible, let it
always be a good day to die.
Look around the room and
look in your heart or soul; call it what you like.
Every one, every thing you have ever known
is still there or somewhere. Call on them.
We are the conscious things of the
fragment moment now and always,
where the past has overcome itself,
the present dances wildly and flickers
through to the future when you allow it to.
Be fearless in thought, in tear,
in torment in tragedy.
One heaps itself upon the other.
Let it all happen.
There’s nothing we can do about it anyway.
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