JANUARY'S STOOP

i'm sitting on january's doorstep just waiting for it to arrive and yet steadily craving and wanting time to slow down. with this new month comes a new year, a new age, and new hopes. it scares me to think that in a year from now i will once again sit on the january's stoop waiting for the door to open and perhaps i may realize that the same hopes still remain or that i have even forgotten what i hope for. this sounds bleak. it's odd that this is what has transpired from sitting down to write for a bit, my pre-typing thoughts seemed so profound. i'm alive. i am, but do i know it. i have survived the withering and growth of the past four seasons, and perhaps added a few of my own to the mix - seasons i never anticipated, seasons i have never endured before and seasons that remain unnamed and more like an unpredictable weather pattern but i have realized that i am still here. will they return? i don't know.