Poem for New Year's Eve

"Another lap around the sun" he said
as if there is a starting line somewhere out there in space.
As if time is really measurable by space.
As if time is measurable at all.

These numbers we apply,
these calculations we create,
they give us such satisfaction.

Are these trivial pleasures all part of the plan?
Do they amuse Someone?

If we didn't count, would we lose track of time?
If we lost track of time, would our memory start to go?
Perhaps our celebrations are indeed what keeps the cosmos in place.

Happy New Year, just in case.