Still Turning

ends are always drawing nigh
and eventually petering out
the ripples from that stone
in a still pond do fade away

conclusions are stuck like insects
to be displayed behind glass
with a generalized hope
that someone later will learn

all museum collections are not shown
some are incomplete others rotate
there is no unabridged dictionary
some options are chosen against

every eschaton remains speculative
until realized and then passes
within a larger field to passé
vitality can never be past or future

at the turning of a year
we are haunted by what has been setup
we are daunted by all still needed
nonetheless we turn with the year

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