Nil are the things that conquer the speed of time.
Not the cheetah racing to its prey,
nor a car upwards of 200 kmh in a 85.
Not the sinking of confidence when faced with doubt,
nor a kid escaping against curfew orders.
Not the changes of a lover’s feelings without warning,
nor changes of one with bipolar struggles.
It’s the spasm of the way things exist.
Distracted even for a second, as
everything gallops into history you can’t recuperate.
Close the curtains of your sight,
and be amazed at the speed of the sun.
From the beginning, time a long stream,
forever a gravitational pull,
for those who wrestle to keep up with it still,
while abundant of others who have finished their race.
It’s always the same orbit.
With the impossibility of changing choices,
welcoming this new year,
In something so metaphysically tangible,
yet so unaltered.