Sunrise, Sunset and the In-Between (Midlife Crisis Blues)

And so a new time frame begins. Seems like only a couple of years ago that everyone was talking about the problems of things not being Y2K compatible but all that's ten years down the line already. Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset, and in between those two eternals, our lives are seamlessly spun out.

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,

The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,

Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath,

And after many a summer dies the swan.

Much as I usually try not to think or sound negative, I feel incredibly aged this year. The immortal lines of Eliot's Prufrock, learnt a long lifetime ago when the world was still sunny and warm and bright with promise, speak for me.

No, I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old . . . I grow old . . .

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me.