Dear 2025,
here we are. meeting each other for the first time. me, older and wiser, you appearing like some newly minted coin from the land of enchantment or the land of malfeasance? does it really matter that we know or don’t know how it feels to be in this firestorm of dashed hopes and tummy aches and unprecedented nows?
how are we to act toward each other, you and i? do i meet you in the moment by moment like a good buddhist or do i scramble for a degree in the origins of the French Revolution, the rights of Panama to keep its canal? do i binge horror flicks to make myself ready for what’s coming? steal a horse from a stable and head for the hills…what’s that you say? they’re on fire?…and if i steer toward the ocean, is that tsunami forming from an earthquake gonna creep up on me in the redwood forests as it topples those ancients like pick-up sticks?
i don’t know about you, but i won’t live in fear.
oh, 2025, what will we be to each other but companions, voyagers together as suns shine and moons phase and our dreams commingle and tumble toward the same unknowing in the costume of time and the story we make.
