Time moves in a cycle,
just as summer comes and goes,
returning and departing every year.
When one thing ends, another begins,
and when something begins, another
ends.
We like to think time is a straight
line
so we can leave our past behind us,
but as time cycles back, as summer
returns,
our memories, our past, returns us to
them,
prisoners of our own actions.
But time moves forward still,
a wheel rolling down an unending hill,
and we are but one point on the wheel
of time,
spinning round and round year by year,
making our way around a moving circle.
As the endless wheel churns,
all things find themselves forgotten.
The memories we sought to escape slowly
fade,
slower than our pained hearts would
rather,
but time teaches us to heal in the
cycle.
Our first summer after will be
difficult,
memories cruelly reminding us of how
things were.
Our second summer will be better,
odd reminders of a time long past.
And so the wheel churns,
until all is forgotten.
-Zero
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