Forward

Three hundred sixty five

days open and shut, darkness

and light, and we're here

again, this arbitrary line

that the earth and stars

disregard, operating on

their own silent clocks

but, still, time (a gift!) to

think of a similar line in

between this now and the next,

each ripe to begin--

So, universe,

let me look forward

using vision (in all its senses),

let me see color and shape

emerge from the dawn of

each future moment, to

look forward at least as much

as I reach back to those

familiar comforts (even when

they are sharp and hard),

forward, into that which

only seems like a void,

leaping and large.