image from pixabay

end of a year

what is time for us
how the moving forward
never fails, even as we sit
those moments shrink, some
wild horizon, we made
an agreement with ourselves
a contract inhaled, initially
before we were real, we
agreed to draw a single story
with the words we learned
and motion, to never
lift hand from paper and
every day we continue
even if we don’t want to
continue, until we can’t
continue anymore and then
the moving forward will
dash past us like a stranger’s
breeze, the end being a force
greater than grief or time—
which is to say, what is time
for us, but a measure of magic
a measure of our magic.

eventually