Superficial,
like the brush of a fleeting thought.
Trivial,
insubstantial,
light as air that carries no weight,
leaving no trace.
Futile,
irrelevant,
in a world of endless significance
that never pauses.
Frivolous, that’s how every first of January feels to me,
so heavy with meaning, yet void of any trace.
Jan 4, 2025
Jan 4, 2025 at 4:21 PM UTC
Superficial,
like the brush of a fleeting thought.
Trivial,
insubstantial,
light as air that carries no weight,
leaving no trace.
Futile,
irrelevant,
in a world of endless significance
that never pauses.
Frivolous, that’s how every first of January feels to me,
so heavy with meaning, yet void of any trace.