Auld Lang Syne
The year, whose hopes were high and strong,Has now no hopes to wake;
Yet one hour more of jest and song
For his familiar sake.
Even while we sing, he smiles his last,
And leaves our sphere behind.
The good old year is with the past;
Oh be the new as kind!
--William Bryant
Every night signs in with a promise for a new day, and every new day brings with it the myriads of knowns and unknowns, the times of ebb and flow, the piebald period of ups and downs, the multitudes of odds and ends, with each supplementing the life with variegated measures of ado and mirth. Living in the multitudes of such multicolored bits and pieces we try to apprehend the meaning of life.
All set in ordain, as imposed from on high
the ravenous time's fleeting, swift and fast
One more night and the new year is nigh
and soon one more year to inter in the past
On the eve of 31-DEC-2006, over again the whole world is at its feet, packed with celebrations, but I the ignoramus, know not what for is this commemoration? Is it an exaugural tribute for the blooming night, that is set to mark anew an evanescent year, or is it the inaugural felicitation for the fading night, that is to cast upon the enascent year.
Each day per se is a suigeneris. Abiding by the stark rules of nature, dancing to the tunes of Time, the Sun the Earth and the Moon march on. With the ebbs of the sunlight, dawn yeilds to the dusk, acounting such dawn and dusk the days end, agglomerating the count of such days the weeks roll out, and the weeks aging to the months, the months to the years, and upon the stage of Time, each in due course bid their last adieu and bow out.
and soon one more year to inter in the past
On the eve of 31-DEC-2006, over again the whole world is at its feet, packed with celebrations, but I the ignoramus, know not what for is this commemoration? Is it an exaugural tribute for the blooming night, that is set to mark anew an evanescent year, or is it the inaugural felicitation for the fading night, that is to cast upon the enascent year.
Each day per se is a suigeneris. Abiding by the stark rules of nature, dancing to the tunes of Time, the Sun the Earth and the Moon march on. With the ebbs of the sunlight, dawn yeilds to the dusk, acounting such dawn and dusk the days end, agglomerating the count of such days the weeks roll out, and the weeks aging to the months, the months to the years, and upon the stage of Time, each in due course bid their last adieu and bow out.
With no different awe or marvel, once more the day shall step in, and yet again there shall be the same diurnals, the Aves shall welcome the new day with their mellisonant yodels, the flowers and the green shall glitter with the bedecked pearls of dew, the plumed pearls shall fume out with the encroaching irradiations of Helios. Neither the birds, the green, the dew, the sun nor the day apprehend the change the mankind has cherished and merried in the dark hours.
One year's enascent, while the others evanescent, I think one person can hardly understand why the life is conducted in such a way, how one came to commit certain actions and not others, whether one looks upon the past with mostly content or regret or equanimity, yet all stand fait accompli and such is the life's lesson. Yes, the year will roll on, but where do we endeavor to go from hither?
posted by Sameer G Kulkarni @ 12/31/2006 09:19:00 PM
