chronos i

'For last year's words belong to last year's language
and next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.'

- T. S. Eliot, 'Little Gidding'

I wanted to think that there was a time

when it was neither one year nor the next -

shaving the seconds into finer slivers

until the passing of each one

could not be perceived.

That moment, suspended in nothing,

would be sacred to me;

a space of no space or memory

or aspiration or resolution:

just a moment.

But childish logic failed me,

for time is not a straight line

and it is always one year and the next.