As the time, in an endless rhythm divided by the rhythm of the year, slips past me, mirror my thoughts the many ends of the year into my past. Ends of the year that alternates in joy and sorrow. No year is the same. No year is more beautiful or happier than the last. Years from my childhood, years as an adult, years as a retiree.
Time undulates like the waves of the sea, high and wild waves to almost no waves to a mirror-smooth sea. Sometimes time passes smoothly. My life is golfing past me. Sometimes I travel a bit with the waves, but that was in my dreams. Dreaming about times that may never come. Dreaming about happiness that will never be part of my life. And the time rolls on unhindered. Sometimes I wanted to sink into the infinite depth of the sea of life. However, a voice whispered in my ear, go on, keep going!
The dividing line between chance and fate is very thin. The end of the year is approaching. It’s unstoppable. The year to come is one of unpredictable events. The wisdom of man is getting further and further into trouble. The waves of time begin to break down on general hysteria. The inability of man, on the blindness of the seeing man.
The end of the year is approaching at the speed of a tsunami, nothing can stop it. The underground rumble continues in otherworldly extremism and injustice. Of oppression, of a greater division about how to deal with this paradise. How to deal with the fleeing fellow man. How to prevent persecutions and the killing of dissenters.
The year is nearing its end and no one can stop it, neither supplications nor prayers. Fate floats past me just like time. Fate floats out of my reach, I swim like a man possessed to catch up, but the current is faster than my swimming art. As I try to keep myself afloat, I see fate disappearing on the horizon.
The year has crept by and is now accelerating. The compact waves drag me along and try to push me under. By chance, a piece of luck floated by and I managed to cling to it. I would never be able to catch up with fate again. Yes, the year is nearing its end. Time laughs at me and swims around me at great speed. Nothing is able to stop it.
The year is nearing its end while I have ended up in a kind of Sargasso Sea, I am embraced by the silence prevailing there. The birds flying over break that silence for a moment. The typical seaweed from which the Sargasso Sea owes its name slows down my swimming movements. The silence and tranquility give me time to think about my future.
As the year draws to an end, my future is being squeezed further and further into the moment when there will be no future for me.
The year is nearing its end. Speaking of the dividing line between chance and fate, will it be my end, next year?
