What’s it all about?


Seasons come and seasons go, fortunes rise and fall, the tide is a constant ebb and flow, what is up will soon be down and what is down will rise again.  Laugh loudly in your joy and celebrate before the good times wither.  Weep to the full while sadness reigns because that too is a season and soon will pass.  Give your all to the moment, live in the now, the past is done and the future will arrive like a juggernaut and will crush the unwary beneath its wheels.

The Darkling Thrush; by Thomas Hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be
The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.