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Wednesday 1 January 2020

New Year


New Year

Haven’t we been here before?
Weren’t we here last year?
Didn’t we sing that same old song
When we couldn’t remember all the words?
Didn’t we shake hands, embrace or kiss
Our dearest loved ones
Or those who were merely nearest
Who we may never see again
And ardently wish them All The Best
For yet another year?

But what exactly lies ahead?
Surely just another set of days
Of twenty-four hour periods
Of dark and light
Dictated by the planet
As it spins upon its axis
And orbits around its feeble sun
In our lonely, empty Solar System
Where the ticks of Time
Are dictated by space
Gravity and physics

But then these groups of seven
That regulate our working and our resting cycles
The days and weeks and months
With their pagan and Roman names
That no-one can quite explain
That set out and delineate our lives
The paying of wages and the salaries
Shopping, driving, eating and sleeping
Laughing and loving, screaming and shouting
And the same old, same old for another year
Are those of mere mortal star-gazers
Astrologers and mathematicians
Emperors and philosophers
Who chose to give their names
To bring about some apparent order
In to our chaotic lives

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020

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