Venturing further into the future
Plunging headlong into unknown places
Hesitant or brave we face a joined path
The result is always the same
Burden by a future without choice
Condemned to face what is ahead
Into eras that make no sense 
Time becomes a parody
A cruel imitation of itself 
Similar but infinitely different
Until years lose their meaning
And dates are utterly senseless
Keeping time is maddening
A game for fools
Timekeeping provides an illusion of control
Making meaning out of arbitrary numbers
Replace the dates and the results are the same
“What year is it?” 
To which a voice responds,
“Does it matter?”

Photo by Jakub Dziubak on Unsplash

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