The Passing of the New

It all comes back resown together sometimes a seam is seen often it’s invisible; or once, twice, three times forgotten. A world rushes in to change a new or old reality - not the blue or green globe but your world - that reality you create to dovetail with mine. When we are not counting eons slip by in milliseconds ‘Nothing is new under the sun.’ What sun, yours, or mine? We walk converging paths apart. Often, ancient, muddy footprints arrive at a shared future though they are covertly dissimilar. The old returns, the new passes away and it is well, it is very well that we do not notice or choose not to.