Dusk of the century

At the dusk of the century,

Waiting in line at my local shrine,

Others look back at what was won,

What was lost.

I choose to look forward.

The dawn.

With hope,

With humility.

There is still more to come,

Before the clock strikes 12 again.

I look in all directions,

But my eyes are glued to the present, the next step, into the future, into the light.

Where do we go next?