Round-dance

The Holy Thorn and the Tor, Glastonbury, painted by Tony Steele

There are berries growing on the hawthorn at the bottom of my garden. A week or so ago, they were the May blooms wreathing the hedgerow and summer had barely begun. Now, the first berries of autumn are already swelling; berries that will feed the birds through the lean months of winter. What we call time is not bounded by the neatly labelled segments of day, month or season. It is a continuous flow. We break the passage of time into bite-sized pieces; the concept of eternity is too vast for our minds to grasp. It seems that sometimes things must be broken before they can be understood.

Shattering what is
A necessary evil
Enabling new growth
The seasons are my teacher
Each dawn a promise of hope

About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She has written a number of books, both alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs. Follow her at scvincent.com and on Twitter @SCVincent Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com
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12 Responses to Round-dance

  1. I think our human brains can’t understand how liquid time is. I love the way you describe it here. We need to compartmentalize it, as in Seasons, as well as hours, days, weeks, etc. Only when I meditate (and practice yoga) do I sometimes release the constraints of that.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sue Vincent says:

      I wonder how much of that is due to our inability to genuinely conceive of a time without ‘us’. Human history is not too difficult to grasp…it all leads up to the point of our becoming, but the thought of an eternity in which we ‘are not’, is one the ego will shy away from.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. noelleg44 says:

    Someone once said reality is only this moment: the past is memory and the future is imaginary.

    Like

  3. English summer, what a delight. Lovely poem, Sue.

    Like

  4. Lovely, Sue. 🙂 — Suzanne

    Like

  5. memadtwo says:

    It amazes me every year how green the world can get. (K)

    Like

  6. Pamela Morse says:

    We are breaking to some kind of core, to expose the truth. I love this, Sue.

    Liked by 1 person

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