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this poem is for a new year
for a new month
for a new day
this poem is for a new womb
for a new birth
for a new life
this poem is for every mistake
for every missed opportunity
for every hesitation
this poem is a new beginning
a second chance
another try
we live our lives sailing a sea of loneliness
venturing from island to island of one night stands
in minimalist boutique hotels
wandering through storybook cities
past monuments i recall from books of poetry
those bronze negroes on beacon street keep marching onwards
towards their deaths and burials
i pause and look at them
pay my respects
and take them as my model for life
to keep marching forward into sure death
to face the blood soaked fields of an unsure battle
knowing the only certainty is my immanent demise
still life suddenly makes sense to me
starting today as if my first day
resetting my being
striving to improve
to succeed 
to truly live
i reflect upon the crowd of revelers 
partying into the dawn
i see the games kids play and recognize im growing tired of the rules
the temporal satisfaction of sensual gratification is insufficient
to satiate my longing for something greater 
something more tangible than the physical 
meeting all these faces 
shaking all these hands
smiling and saying some trite greeting like
nice to meet you
still my resolution crumbles as my patience fades
i find myself groveling on the floor
begging some stranger to be my mother
and it never works
i trudge home alone down solitary streets
that fragile time of the daily cycle
when its not yet dawn but night has already faded
knowing the sun is soon to rise
a new day is to begin
so my life cycle seems to echo that of the cosmos
i relinquish control to celestial rotation
acting as a conduit for the heavens
my life is beyond my command
i ask nothing more 
than to follow our desires 
and live the fantasies of life 
one and all

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