Tiny speck too small to see is circling the sun at unimaginable speeds

A single revolution just looks like the arm of a clock- one minute

Every cell in every body

constant regeneration 

nothing is the same

Emotions drawn up from crossing the oceans of faces each day 

The musician, revolutionary, marrionette, and that dumb cat.

These morphing faces and ever changing landscapes are foolish to be seen as repeating 

we are only lost when nostalgic (excuse my tangents) 

back to this speck stuffed with nervous energy caused by

forever rotating 

forever changing 

And therefore, the same.

On the surface, the fluctuation of anxiety, new classes, new faces, new emotional barriers 

Mammoth events here on earth are a second in the galactic clock of infinity

so when an explosion of events occurs in a millisecond 

I step back and realize that not much has mattered 

there's meetings and outings and conflicts and more

when I remember to breathe (for once in this minute of a year)

I can romanticize the musician, revolutionary, marrionette, and all

everything can be placed into a symphony of beauty and this year is a masterpiece 

last year was an idiot, this one overcompensated.

Every bit of these seconds have meaning I've placed into them 

perhaps childish to accommodate my mistakes 

I love these years and the pain they create

even if just to cope with the change.