New Year

And for some, the new year would hurl in like none other before. Snapping and biting and twisting. Pushing on the fragile spirits that waited for it in anticipation as they silently cried for change. Please, they begged. We fought so hard, but please, we want to start new again. They would plead, We want to be strong again. And it will overwhelm and shove and drown the broken ones with its shining newness and light and life. And they will laugh. Finally they will laugh again as they feel the rush of starting. Beginning. Because it has been so hard for them the last year. Or maybe they're just tired and only think it's been so hard. But they're the ones with welcome, open arms, broad chests, and shoulders finally rising up from a collapsed position on the white sheets and soft bed of despair. They're the ones who are ready. Who have waited for what seemed like so long to restart. So they cheer with jubilee. And he feels so perfectly pure and right and everything he should in that moment. Just the tick of a clock, a shout as a glimmering silver orb falls, a gleam in a blue eye, a walk by the sea during a dark night, the pop of fireworks. Or even simply, a breath between a kiss, a slightly open mouth positioned to unconsciously partake in a habit that consists of the necessity for one to live. And then it's done. He has arrived.
And yet, for others even, the new year would creep in while they still rushed. Subtly whispering about its coming, and only starting at the toes so not to startle those who didn't wish as hard as others for it. But it still startled. And they had to sit down and tell themselves with apt, not begrudging voices, they had to assure themselves, It's okay. We did well this time around. They had to confide and confess in the deepest confines of themselves. Don't be bitter, don't be bitter. This is not robbery of time. But still they wept. And the new year would understand and move even slower for those ones. He could comprehend the abruptness of himself sometimes, he could know that though they objected, he was always inevitable. So he didn't take offense when some of them slept through his arrival in hopes that the gift would not be given. But he always was, and they would open their bleary eyes the next day and half of their soul would think, That's so bright. And the other half would think, That's so bright. And so he has arrived.