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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1325711
Something I wrote just before the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve.
I'm counting down the crawling ticks,
In quiet desperation, seeking exhilaration;
Waiting for the pause where everything clicks,
The moment when the sky will bear witness to an explosion.

A clean slate, a refreshingly fresh start starts,
But yet yesterday and its yesterday;
Has in their hands, cards of unimaginable parts,
Yes, ghosts of the past always linger in some way.

If the sun rises in every dawn,
Why would tomorrow be any different?
If only a new calender is drawn,
Why is a new year so significant?

So what if the Earth completes a rotation?
Such changeovers happen not in a split second;
Worldly perspectives change in a 24 hour duration,
Or does the concept of time zones not beckon?

Why, on this day, make any resolution,
Why does the minute after 23.59 bring such a revolution;
Why wait and pray for a sudden evolution,
When in every moment hides the solution.
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