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Circles and Cycles

With the crackle of leaves under my footsteps a haunting harbinger of the cold, dreary, days ahead and the billowy, pristine clouds floating weightlessly in the crystal blue skies of October, I am reminded, once again, of a summer too-soon past.

The extended autumn-winter cusp brings with it a restlessness I cannot shake and a compelling desire for reflection that I cannot ignore.

More than any other change of season, autumn appears dazed and confused. It seems lost on some forgotten river of time, floating on a eerily painted ghost ship slowly drifting to its death. It is getting closer and closer and closer to those thundering, icy falls that descend blindly into that lifeless, lightless labyrinth we call winter.

It was but a fleeting moment ago the birds had returned from their winter hiding places to grace my life - and those seemingly endless summer mornings - with their colorful plumes and wistful, happy songs. Dawn came early then and night came late. All seemed right with the world.

Nothing ever stays the same in this world; time marches only in one direction. The cycles of circles spinning around and around never end. Seasons come and seasons pass into each other seamlessly, each intrinsically reliant upon the other. Flowers grow and flowers die. The trees are splendidly wrapped in summer green and fade brilliantly into oranges, yellows and reds. Today will be tomorrow and tomorrow will soon enough be yesterday. Next week will be last week and next month will be last month - and it will all happen before we realize we have taken a breath.

We always find ourselves caught by surprise by the passing of time even though time passes without us taking much notice of it. Our lives are measured by it, our days are organized by it, and our world depends on it, yet no one knows what this thing we call "time" really is.

I was born and I will die and a child will be born to take my place.

Somewhere in this world a sick, old man reaches up blindly and touches the face and the heart of the love of his life, then his cold, dead, withered hand falls to the bed. He gives a loud sigh and then lies still forever. A baby is born at that very same moment and reaches up and unknowingly touches the face and heart of his mother. Then her arm warm arm falls to softly to bed and she dreams of her life ahead. Circles and cycles going around and around; beginnings and endings - opposites, yet the same. All around me, all the time, always changing - circles and cycles go around and around and nothing ever stays the same.

I'm lost in the things I discover and I am found in the things I've lost. When I am blinded by sadness I see the most magnificent and miraculous things and feel the deepest emotions. When my eyes are opened, and I can see in the light of the day, I am blinded by the horrors of mankind's inhumanity, When I can see well I am blind for I cannot see past my own selfishness.

In the most absurd lies, I find truth and in most elegant truths I find the most egregious lies. My sarcasm remains my shield against pain and the pain I feel is a shield against desperation.

Cycles and circles going around and around - time that always was is no more and then it is again. Seasons end and seasons begin; the ending is the beginning and the beginning is the ending. Cycles and circles going around and and around. Time flows in one direction - on and on and we are are all as important as the brightest star and as insignificant and imperceptible as the smallest ripple on the largest ocean. We all fragile souls drifting precariously on the swells on the immense and endless surface of the sea of time.

Not one of us is more significant or more insignificant than the other. We each are bound together like atoms in the wind, each of us is nothing without the other, We are all at the whim and the mercy of the circles and cycles of time.

The tide comes in and the tide flows out in an endless circle and cycle of time. Circles and cycles going around and around and around....

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