Regret or accept, the past begets a new horizon every instant even when I forget what I was about to say, friends, champagne bursts out of our time, a laughter shared, light to the mind, tender tonight as bubbles lift our body’s history until the gap widens enough to fit expectations on bashed cobwebs. I wander around the shore, but as I fall deeper into the forest the power to force your way into the next instant diminishes, bound to the rules of complexity, slay the book that contains the riddle of who I am surrounded by endless labyrinths shining a path toward the emptiness I am while in awe. We are not completely in control of what constitutes us, nor who we are, a harvest of intermingling thoughts, spires colliding, settle as the horizon brings me the caring needed to free me from a what if: What if the done hadn't been? What if the wasn't was done? And as the year leaves us, what I did leaves me its branches too, can't undo a mistake with a grin but I can learn to forget the tears of a what if while drunk by a sunset. Even when unsettled by a what if, patience awakens calmness, bursts blisters of misplaced possibilities and widens a gap with each today as it comes to pass, able or unable to change it, sorrow, for tomorrow to come, for us to grow and expand, as if our forever were to be this universe kindled by fond memories.