It’s January once again
And as I write to you, my friend,
I ponder how to separate
Each beginning from an end.
“You can’t have one without the other”,
So says my wise and kindly Mother.
Her wisdom holds but still I wonder
If they aren’t two but one another?
Is life a string of fits and starts,
Of broken and then mended hearts,
Of doors that close and windows opened,
Of disparate, disjointed parts?
Or is it all somehow connected,
Every moment interjected
with the present, past and future,
Pefectly, in you, reflected?
Now I don’t have a PhD,
Or Masters in philosophy,
So I’m not really qualified
To answer questions such as these.
I guess I’ll leave it up to you
And other folks with high IQs,
And try to keep in mind my thoughts
count half as much as what I do.