Pretty Good Light Show Over Zion

Another year comes in with an iamb
After the last one roared out of Zion.

There’s no military allegory
For existence that’s only forward march,

But why not confuse the names of the times,
When the times are always so confusing?

Some are born in months that once were numbers,
Others are stuck honoring emperors

In a species for whom coincidence,
However arbitrary, signifies.

Given we are here, it’s unsurprising,
But it’s shocking we’re unsurprised we’re here.

Dates lie. There’s no exact closure to years.
Still, wish me well. Not all lightnings bring tears.