On being passed by the years
“The months and days are the travellers of eternity. The years that come and go are also voyagers.”
Bashō opens a walking journal by making time the one that walks. The traveller sets out; the years were already on the road, and had been passing him for decades before he thought to move.
It reframes the ordinary complaint about time slipping away. Nothing is slipping. Something is going by at a steady pace, and the choice available is whether to be standing still while it does.