All good things come to an end

That was one of my Grandma's favourite sayings. Not sure if it's really any comfort but it is true. Good things can't last forever. There has to be a balance. Without sad/boring/lacklustre times we wouldn't appreciate the good ones.

So we approach another Twelfth Night and the sad moment of taking down the decorations and moving on into January. Time to take stock of new things that might be in our lives, things which have changed, things to look forward to, choices to be made.

Here is the opening part of Burnt Norton by T.S Eliot which kind of sum it up I think.

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.