Gnomon Transformed the Moment
Gnomon transformed the moment,
a shadow; broken, unbroken!
Briefly, my walking stick gives an estimate of the day left.
Carpenter's square carves the hour, causes me to fixate
in frozen stare on this forest floor, of this forest soil.
Geosmin rises as I walk in circles, cast my interfix,
contemplate the figure eight of an analemma curve, and that O
stuck in the word horology. Presentiment lost in language tools,
tools, there are no adequate words standing between. Standing
between the study of time and truths obliquity motions,
emotion, motions pull the equation of time.
Tick tock the rhythm I walk... of time to live again, to live
pounce and pied with a permanent shadow.
This sun dialled body passing the same gardenia again,
again the one that knows shadowed further,
further under the sun in this natural labyrinth.
The one that knows every I is a we,
so I pick it sweet for a boutonniere!
Dashed through the seam ripped slit, a perfect buttonhole
for tiny buttons, as the clock chimes evening dress.
“O, circle one stick, green stem”, It is a pearl
linking as I recompose walking on cherry blossoms,
A pinky white carpet falls. Fall... water falls faster,
faster to the soil that misses human decomposition,
my head pressed to the walking stick.
Tang of metal vaults tinged in rain... springs
springs water continuously falls,
water falls on verdigris brass surrounded by consumption.
Nip, nip in the nipper of a moment and eyes see
diatum magic in this water. Nip, nip, nipper,
like a baby putting teeth to it
gathering paradise, I bite the wood.
It slips through empty as words leaving nothing but pure emotions
to speak openly of love. Chest full of warmed
airstream partially obstructed on turbulent spirant,
stops organs, stops a force majeure
changing landscapes to seascapes in bits and pieces,
pulling it together by hand a gentle hush
across the land, one finger to the lips. Hush!
The beginning is the end where we start.
Divided by the sharp triangular blade,
cutting sculptor’s dust from the silver dollar galaxy
in two, cut in two... blood runs from my lips.
Two lips; light ray, dark matter tulips
lip and fold and the soil rises to absorb it.
Whispering, it tells me the universe is one great thought.
One separated! In the beginning was code
separated out. A random thought just ran through my head,
divided into two, trinity must rise!
Rise, arise and sleep is a prayer, sleep is insurance.
Language built this garden, everything in nature is computed,
futurity predicted in a daily cup of tea.
Looking for a venue, a place to be,
a venue... a place to be is where I have been, who knew?
looking for a venue a place to recompose,
compose, pulling it together by hand
inky swatches on the back, pulling us under in two places.
Looking for a venue, a place to be illusion.
To be, reality is what humankind can not bear.
Writing this does not help, you see what it means?
Avidly, the words still signify here and now,
the stoic way, the obstacle is the way!
The way avidly, live and keep learning how to live.
Everyone says but do they know Tempus Fugit?
Time flies, make use of time, human mortality,
transience, virtue, living, humour, mutter the mottos!
mutter all the maxims. All the mottos on sundials
mutter back: be true as the gnomon is to the sun!
Hours fly, flowers die, new days, new ways, pass by. Love stays.
My precious one, only tell of sunny hours. mox nox.
Our body is a gnomon...
umbra sumus. All hours wound, the last one kills!
Pulvis et umbra sumus: we are dust and shadow,
dust and shadow time devours,
conquers and our last hour is hidden so we watch them all;
so while we have time take the gift and do good.
Dum tempus habemus operemur bonum is the motto on my sundial.
A gift and I took the gift of this hour unbroken,
gnomon transformed the moment.
