Why 2012 Will Be Better Than 2011

A new year is upon us, with now the number twelve;
you add it to two thousand, into time’s realm you delve.
I think it will be better, much better than before,
for time provides a window, and opens up a door.

We can look into the past and see the good and bad;
we can then walk through the door and minimize the sad.
We can look right through the glass, beclouded by a storm,
then take steps beyond the door to search for places warm.

As we open new year’s door, we hold to what is real;
we can always do our best to keep an even keel.
For we know that waves will rise and give our ship a shake,
but an old year now has passed, and we know of its wake.

Yet as we go through the door we should remain aware,
that odd things will still occur, on land, in sea and air.
For it just remains a fact the Mother Nature rules,
and a ship that heeds no storm is just a ship of fools.

Still, I posit betterment, not whether bad will be;
day to day, walk of life, business and economy.
When Even Steven felt a shift because of odd mix up,
in his heart he felt this year would even it all up.

I am so optimistic, a new year shining bright,
a calendar, newly hung, a dozen years all right.
Since the Mayan calendar ends December twenty first,
there are those who say this year will be a little worse.

  (I do not hold to doomsday--I’d rather hold to hope;
  yet it is true that things can hang if given too much rope.
  If the ropes that tie us to the past become quite frayed,
  bags of lemons come untied, so we make lemonade.)

Still, last year was very strange, from Montreal to Perth;
earthquakes deep beneath the sea altered the tilt of Earth.
But the Earth retains its spin and greets the light of sun,
and we look to this new year to beat the prior one.

Coincidental numbers, improvement to the score;
nuances of government from mountain to the shore.
And if it just happens that Big Brother would want more,
it’s because this new year matches nineteen eighty four.

We will always have the odd beneath the blue of sky,
but calendars are rigid, and numbers do not lie.
And so it should be better, in face of fate or God,
for number twelve is even, and last year was just odd.


[Rhythm: 13]  (Lines: 40)
Writer’s Cramp; January 1, 2012