The Analemma of Living

    I hesitate. What is the truth?
Every day, I blaze a new starseen, sunshadowed path on earth -- a journey without Presbyterian plan that
  scribbles a figure eight.
    An analemma of my wandering might
        resemble that of the sun's,
    which written (though not etched) in the sky every hour
        will describe infinity.
It's noon by watch and town clock,
    but the sun won't say that:
It's . . . earlier . . . or later.
    The sun stays where it is, scorched and burning. It is we who move --
    We heretics who do not have to burn, at least not for truth about the earth and the sun.
       
This analemmic path -- caused by the earth's tilted axis and her elliptical orbit around the sun -- makes me think I should try harder
    to be where I ought,
      to act as I should,
        to weave truth into truth, love into love,
and simpleness with complexity.

You might say this is my own Equation of Time.

Sundial in Leakin - Time in a Place

    Time turns on itself, a moebius highway twisting into new territory, no brakes work here.
    You might as well walk out of the desert blindfolded, as with your eyes open, because given a big enough desert you will walk in circles.
    One compass struts its stiff veteran's legs across maps and charts, measuring distances.
    Another compass wavers, then points with his blued sword to magnetic north. But maybe it isn't the same as True North; maybe it's a compass tired of its journey?
    The old North Poles are buried under glazed seeps of arctic ice. Graves of trolls are there too, in the ancient cemetery.
    The next magnetic north wanders like a warrier looking for his lost spear, looking for his new encampment. His descendants wait under the ice.
   
  The "Time & Place" sundial sculpture (August 2008-May 2009) above, with Nature's fallen tree behind it, is by artist/activist Douglas Retzler (seated). I took it April 5, 2009. Go to sundial, then click on photowerks, then choose a set of sundial pictures.