Time.
The process of passing dilutes everything.
The spinning wheel no longer expects everything to happen again.
Three years.
Three years.
Another three years.
When young people transform one by one like butterflies.
When the edges and corners of the past are smoothed gradually.
When looking to the future again.
I have given up on shouting passionate young people into the sunset.
Everything is changing.
Like the ever-changing seasons, or the ebb and flow of the tide.
Everything changes by chance, it's just time.