Tick-tock
Chim-chime
Ring-rung

The sun scorches our skies with blaze of our lands
The moon arches over the pitch of our nights
The tide will churn in our troughs and reefs
Sands will contest the behemoths of our swells

Bodies in peril are those of lost clocks
Knowledge can be passed when we are lost of words
Integrity can be instilled beyond the lost compass
Lessons can be but a carriage beyond our lost paths

When we look beyond our lens, we see our shadows in passing luminaries
... we see our reflections against shimmering mirrors
... we see our hour through a screening of glass
... we see our legacy defined in terms to be redefined

Age of knowledge can surmount against all
but enviably, time is keeper to our fall
Age defined by a new year, then alas,
we realized it has passed

We have searched high and screech to our crawls
but again, we can see we will relinquish to it all
When we see that our bodies as relics of time of the pass
and with time, we will see our relics that have amassed

A new year is so bluntly, irreverently, inexplicitly here
We can look at it with clouds of light, of dark, or of fear
We can blanket it in a lining of warmth, of chill, or of strength
We can turn it around, upside down, or to whatever lengths
We can let it slip through our fingers of silver, of gold, or of fast
We can define a will to transcend our years of shadows, of mirrors, and of hour in a glass.

I don't believe I've ever told you how much I enjoy reading your writing so since I've decided to be pleasant this year I'll just say "it's aight!" Seriously, you're really good at what you do babe.

I don't believe I've ever told you how much I really enjoy reading your writing. So since I've decided to be a pleasant person this year I'll just say "it's aight!" Seriously, you're truly good at what you do babe. ;)