Our hearts are stout vessels, forged out of tissue stronger than tempered steel. How else can they remain undaunted in the face of savage change? How else can they desire transformation and simultaneously abhor it?
A new year is upon us, to lift us like leaves, like petals, like clouds. And to crush us like withering rocks under iron soles.
Do I take time and space by the scruff of their necks, force them to do my bidding and perish gloriously in a blinding white light? Do I sit in my balcony and watch the whims of the Universe turn beggars to kings and kings to beggars? Do I submit myself to the blessings and the onslaughts?
Am I a subject of this world or an object for another's taking? Or are these different ways to view the same reality? Or are these just lies!
Resolutions are for cowards. I will confront the new year, armed with nothing but belief. I will not wilt under the brutalities of adult society. I will learn from the past but I shan't cling on to wisdom. I will retain the heart of a child.
I will look to my compass for guidance, for it errs not in this world of mirrors. I will draw lines in this grey battlefield of meanings, and I will have the courage not to cross strokes of peril. I will accept paradoxes instead of bartering goods.
In a way I never have before, just like I promise myself year after year, I will prevail.
"How can this be any different from what we have already seen?"
"It's a trick. They always change everything when you're looking away."