The arrival of the New Year leads inevitably to thoughts of Time -- "implacable fate" and "the strumble of the hungry river of death" as Hilaire Belloc says in "From the Latin (but not so pagan)." But that is too bleak a way to begin anew, isn't it?
Perhaps it is best to stick with the present, with moments. Ludwig Wittgenstein, in his mystical and puzzling way, says this:
If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present.
Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, Proposition 6.4311 (1921) (translated by D. F. Pears and B. F. McGuinness). A bit on the abstract side, I'm afraid. Better to think in terms of, say, swans swimming on a tree-lined river on a summer's day.
A swan and cygnets, nothing more.
Background of silver, reedy shore,
Dim shapes of rounded trees, the high
Effulgence of a summer sky.
Only a snap-shot. Just a flash,
And it was fixed, -- the mimic wash,
The parent bird on-oaring slow,
Her fussy little fleet in tow,
The all-pervading sultry haze,
The white lights on the waterways, --
A scene that never was before,
A scene that will be -- Nevermore!
Alas! for us. We look and wait,
And labour but to imitate;
Vainly for new effects we seek . . .
Earth's shortest second is unique!
Austin Dobson, Collected Poems (1920). The poem was written in 1904.
"Swan Upping at Cookham" (1915-1919)