the year is going, let him go --

Last year's words belong to last year's language.

And next year's words await another voice.

Dust in the air suspended
Marks the place where the story ended.

So I find words I never thought to speak
In streets I never thought I should revisit
When I left my body on a distant shore.

There are three conditions which often look alike
Yet differ completely, flourish in the same hedgerow:
Attachment to self and to things and to persons

 

We cannot revive old factions

We cannot restore old policies
Or follow an antique drum.

 What we call the beginning is often the end

And to make an end is to make a beginning.

 

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time. 

Let's go, 2014. I'm ready for ya.