New Years

The 20th century wanes like an October moon
Pitted with halos
We will worship people and places
Movements and manifestoes,
But all of the best poets, lovers, and prophets
Have slipped into the obscurity of a faded letter
An heirloom or faded photograph

Is wheat of lesser quality
If it is not consumed on the open market
Would God be less of a God without a people
This is my letter to the 20th century
That never wrote to me
I send you to the realms of documentaries and history books
I am thankful that all of the wonderful moments
Of our lives are nowhere to be found in their pages
We are just another white spot on the margin of time's guestbook
 

Joel Pace
Eau Claire WI, USA