spring

Spring. In a couple of months it will be spring again.

Waking I think 'Is it really nearly a year since last spring? Must time march on so? My end draws nearer yet.' I feel despair.

Here I'm clinging onto life, try to take a portion of it for myself. It's me against time, me against fate.

Or:

I wake and think 'How wonderful: spring will soon be here; yet another chance to experience its joys.' I feel happy, grateful.

Here I'm alive to grace: life now is 'gift'. I arise and pass within time; how good to have this repeated glimpse at all.

These two visions of spring are, in the facts they survey, precisely equivalent.

..... And now imagine what you would want to say to someone who voiced the banal 'That's just the difference between a glass half empty and a glass half full.'