No New Beginnings

 

This is not the beginning;

it is a continuation,

an infantile iteration.

Something new

in the body of something

that has existed for a while.

 

Eyes open to a new dawn.

First light banishing dreams,

quickly forgotten.

Carrying forth our image

from some long forgotten provenance,

pushing off from familial shores,

out into uncharted waters.

Or, so we believe.

 

The wake

of those who might have gone before us

is long settled.

Their maps;

moth eaten, lost,

and crumbled to dust.

We take our azimuth,

set our course,

and feel

intrepid

as our vessel

glides past the quay.

 

Unless,

we are a refugee;

fleeing home

towards some uncertain tomorrow.

The evil behind,

and a million unknown devils

lurking behind every choice

to flee

into the dark of the unknown.

 

Instinct is the only council.

No new way,

but one way;

forward.

Camp to camp,

place to place.

Revenants

haunting unfamiliar lands.

 

Call this “A new beginning”.

Cal this “An adventure”.

Romanticize

starting over,

not for desire

for some burning revelation,

but only to survive.

 

To start again

must mean

losing everything.

That is why there are

no new beginnings.

Not while we draw breath

and catch starlight in our eyes.

No, we are but continuations.

Dotted lines to checkered pasts,

and spider-thin connections

to aeons past.

 

Even in the end,

we find no end.

This is not

the ending, either.

This is the bottom

of the respiratory pause

before the next breath

is drawn

and we’re off again

to some new beginning.

 

 

HG – 2022

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