For Auld Lang Syne

Bright Syne

New Year,
Same old tear,
Of all the seasons to pass,
The tired winds whistle through the same grass,
Nothing is new under the moon,
No hearty song; no melancholy tune,
No romance,
No second chance,
Yet,
I bet,
The breath on the wind has a new voice,
That tells us to rejoice,
That says we’ve made it through the storm,
A new chapter to this book is being born,
One the heralds of old have sung,
With all flute and lung,
As a phoenix from long ago,
The ancient rivers are again going to flow,
The changing of the guard,
A fifth suite of card,
The dawn of spring,
A completion in the cycle of the ring,
For we never gave up,
And we never fell to that ever-tempting cup,
As warriors we stood,
Even if we have slipped from good,
But now we have a glint in our eyes,
A burning bond that ties,
Intertwines,
And finds,
We aren’t at the end,
Merely at another bend,
From the ground to the sky to the sea,
A gust is coming that will let us see,
Let us truly be,
Set us free!