This describes best the cycle of the philosopher. The cycles around us which seem the same, but are continually changing, progressing, moving from within, without. The familiar cycle of birth and death, for example, where these opposites are actually one cycle.
Death is merely the close of one particular cycle of experience, begun by birth.
It is in reality the annihilation of nothing but that particular physical body . . . We dance around in a ring and suppose, But the Secret sits in the middle and knows. All movements throughout boundless space are cyclical in character, whether they last for an infinitesimal fraction of a human second or whether they last as long as the cosmic manvantara itself lasts. Everything is cyclic. The life of a fire-fly is as cyclic as is the life of a human being or the periodic revolution of the Earth or of any other planet around the Sun.