New Year, the day of ends and beginnings,
the two extremes of rope, sunup-sundown,
the moment we break our sign of infinity
—that lazy 8 napping on its side
as life goes on, the day we take
a short breath to believe it’s undulant line
may really be broken and resumed
without upsetting the will of the universe
to be one, unsplittable in the extent of its being
as if time arbitrarily set to solar cycles
marks anything but a hope to give human order
to a thing as ineffable as a snake biting its tale.
yet it can be done, and is, in love, by love
Jim Culleny
©1/2/2021
Blink 