“new year’s”

those that lived before us

they were born of dust

scraped from high chilean peaks

warmed by the temple sun

and washed by the mountain ice

they spoke in prayers

carried by the wind for a thousand years

and from their souls came wisdom

brilliant-white and pure

 

how has this history found us

like a dark coffee fog swelling in the distance

waiting in the stillness

for such a time that finds us all

wasted in our revelry

just so many hours far removed

here among the quickening lights

 

what lies behind those ancient eyes

those flecks of circled glass

piercing stony hearts

our deepest wishes known

 

and in those new year’s old

when love was soft and warm

did they dream of us in our future

i think not so much perhaps

rather do i imagine

when the moon rang out at midnight

they pulled close the one’s they cherished

and held them breathless-tight

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/31/13

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