So Turns the Circle of Life

We are convened here today at the end of February. Perhaps the most important message now is that we should not mourn the matter overly. Do not be mistaken, as it would not be right to pretend that the passing of February is any kind of insignificant matter. It is simply that we are already aware of the matter at hand. It is not as if we are arrogant Odysseuses, so proud, so cock-sure, prancing about with our heads devoid of eyeballs - nay, we already know of the enormity of the moment. Any extravagant and eulogical mourning for the passing of February would be nothing beyond shameless conceit, as nothing would be achieved but preaching righteousness to a community of holy men. It would serve only to further our sorrow at the thought of a February past and an inevitable eleven months of hell.

February may not be humble, and rightfully should not be so, but he is not irrational. So, rather than tarry overly on expressing our sorrow, let us remember the cause of it. Unlike the lamentation of Persephone as her purview in heaven passed and her eternally fated stint in hell began, ours is not just one out of concern for our future mood. Our sadness is a product only of our heedfulness for the fineness and glory of February, and thus the inevitable truism that life during any other month is in comparison a rafflesia arnoldii to a rose. The eleven months may have in achievement their volume and size, but with that they do not manage to have so much as a saving grace of grandeur in comparison to the magnificence of February. The rose of February, perfect as is conceivably possible, brings the only thorn of the possibility of non-February, as is universal to all things of beauty. For any good thing, there must be the potential bad of the lack of that good thing. And so, we must now feel the thorns of non-February, all the sharper for its beauty and perfection. But, with this understanding, that our sorrow is product only of our previous joy for and love of February, that the thorn is only sharp because the rose beautiful, perhaps we can manage it a bit better. Not that the sorrow can be vanquished (for how genuine could it have been then?), but it can be toned out, our focus can be shifted. With this understanding, do not feel pain when looking about and seeing the happy faces unaware of the moment. Do not hate them for being simple minded, but rather recall what you would have sacrificed not to have places switched with them just hours ago, still under the illustriousness of February.