motivations, setbacks, and the friends made along the way (poem)

i guess when the clock strikes twelve tomorrow night we’ve reached another year in our lives another page turned, bearing a new date in the corner “january 1, 2025” it reads all 364 pages after that will be full filled to the brim with writings and scribbles and meaningless words or maybe they do mean something, and in turn a prediction has landed on that page a prediction, filling up that page with concerns what will this new year be like? will every dawn be the same? when the clock strikes twelve, will something yell every single thing has changed? when the clock strikes twelve will we be free? or lose every right, along with our dignity? will there be a point to this endless hypothesis? this endless prediction, this endless fear this endless worry that the end is near its not, not for billions of years and yet we all stand, staring at this obstacle this huge scribble on the page we blink and blink, beginning to look like lizards it doesn’t change for every year to come, including this new year this new page turned this day called january 1, 2025 every memory from the last page before this it was never a clean slate it was never fresh, never new never in the right shape now we turn a new one, with no marks on it besides that oh so foreboding date this fresh, clean slate provides a sliver of hope a sliver of faith, a sliver of everything going right but will it go wrong? no, not for billions of years