Saturday, August 28, 2010

365.

Being a number good for cycles.



Doesn't the Sun ride his golden bike all the way around in 365?

Or no. We are imprecise.
(What’s new?) 
The World rides.  Panting.  Helmet listing to one side.  Working working her long ellipse.  Just keeping up with the faster planets.

And not 365 exactly.

Close enough. Two bits worth of change.

Because oh we need a change, my dear Imaginary Bicycle. 
(What’s new? )
We must reroute. Not keep going on at length, riding the same road around, boring on about the same landmarks, regular intersections.

Yes.  All those things about the cycles of life. Children who are no longer children. Parents who are no longer strong. Sunsets and sunrises. And how hard the uphill sections are. And all those pictures taken at the rest stops.

Sweet-and-sour nothings.

Fistful of dandelions. Yellow as sun. Drifting into emptiness like the downy-headed moon.

Insights obvious as daylight, just as weighty as moonshine.

Isn't there anything new?

How to Conquer the Continent.  
Beginning – A New Serial.

Time is always shorter.

Plus I have about 365 holes to dig now in my moonscape hillside.

If I were wise I would stop cycling here in place, backpedaling blogwise, dipping down into silence like the moon as she cycles. 
(Mixing metaphors abandonedly in this my hasty kitchen.)

“Why don’t you, if you want to?” asked a friend – I was going to say new friend, but there are no new friends.  New acquaintances only. Once friendship enters in, time steps aside.  Friendship partaking of that timeless quality that makes us say old friend.

And so, my dear old friend, trusty Vehicle of metaphor and teetering two-wheeled metaphysics, let’s stop toting groceries. Let’s stop riding the road mapped out already by other riders’ requirements.


We say how we want to take to the open road. Our own opening road. What better time than now. 

365.

For the sake of bounds and seasons.

365.

Only so many days in a given, unleaping year.

365.

For the freedom within limits which we lose when we leap over.

365.

Only this many words' worth measured out for each post this next moon-cycle.


To see how far 365 can go.

2 comments:

Clowncar said...

what a wondrous tumble of metaphors.

360, 365, etc. I like hoe difficult it is to squeeze the real world into a calender. Always adding leap years, leap seconds. Having to memorize "30 days hath September" just to keep it all straight.

I tend to note the passage of time by the moon- particularly that thin gorgeous crescent at dusk, right after the new moon. I hop from one to the next as if they were stepping stones.

suzanne said...

Luck! And blessings.
And love.

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