As the years accumulate at an alarming rate,
I find myself staring thirty in the face.
Not that I doubt the math,
it's not the number of years that've passed,
so much as what they contain.
I thought there would be a You,
an as of yet imaginary You,
amongst other things
that I used to think.
No point in fretting,
time passes exponentially
perhaps to help us cope with
the spent year's regrets.
Solace in the multiple of bygones gone by,
knowing they ebb and flow quicker now,
time accumulating like credit card debt
wiping out misfortune by virtue of its vastness.
6 September 2012