Medidation on another year passing

the final tumult
of the year's cascade
leaves me with the knowledge
that nothing ever happens.

we go nowhere,
and we see no one.
Our years creep past
Draped in silence,
and masked by illusory sirens
of contentment or success.

only as children could we hear the music,
only as adults we realize
that music is the way.

We huddle sleepily in the prelude to dawn,
Wondering if we'll ever find the time we've lost
As the last breath of night
expels across the star-spattered sky.