Whatever New Year It Is? Poem by James Tipp

The famous clock awaits, the giant hands move slowly
The crowd in raucous expectation waits in anticipation
The hand moves the clock strikes and all hell breaks lose
The New Year with all its future before it explodes onto the scene
Yet in the reality of things we have only this moment, now.
We cannot rewind the clock or fast-forward to the next frame
We are still as we were, nothing more or less, caught in the moment
The past is set forever, the future a complete mystery unseen
Yet we have hope, a hope that is clouded yet longed for.
The people of faith are chided for their optimism in the unseen
The hope that is found within the mystery of the Godhead
Yet we to are told in the holy writings the source of our hope
That now is the day of salvation, yes only the now is real
Whatever New Year this is, it will only ever be now for us all.