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
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
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