Retrograde Motion

I fought to push the sleep away, but long beneath the sheet I lay. At last, I rose to start the day, and then the rain came down. The kettle in the kitchen sighed all pensive for what would betide. I sipped my tea all bleary eyed as still the rain came down. I turned the pages to the sound of liquid bullets coming down and watched my garden slowly drown as loud the rain came down. And though I want so much to stay, that tyrant time pulls me away. I step out bold to meet the fray as still the rain comes down.

A canopy of cloud is coming down to touch the glist’ning ground, and birds are not yet singing. And people in their beds are dreaming, fears forestalled by a steady sound: the hourly bells are ringing. The violet velvet sky is stirring life upon the dismal downs, and soft the birds are singing. The gentry rise with drowsy grumbling: souls that to the world are bound. The hourly bells are ringing. At last the scarlet veil is lifting, and Earth is shown in glory crowned, and still the birds are singing; the hourly bells are ringing.

  When the planets had been set in their motion, Atestalume called all the Æteslae together to hold council. They came all to him, and he gave to them this charge, “My brothers and sisters, this world: the seas, land, and all the stars beyond, Umare has placed in our care. Look therefore to the tasks you have been given. Tend the Earth, guard its inhabitants, and teach them to sing the song of Umare. For he taught us to sing it first that we might spread it throughout all creation and grow further what he has begun.” And all present swore to be faithful to Umare and honour Atestalume, whom Umare had appointed to rule them.  Each of them set to the tasks they had been given. As they work, they sang each their own harmony which they learned from Umare, and the stars where they dwelt altered their dances in response to the new sound. Arwevina was found the most glorious of the singers, and his star and tower shone brightest among them all save only those of Atestalume and Nyeva...

  What make we here, we well read fools, assembled in these languid halls with books, and poems, and weary rules that bind the wards which fill our walls? What mar we here with books that some will scoff that we should ever read and thoughts that they would keep us from in favour of the common creed. Oh, listen not to idle droll, for we are fools enough to know before us sits a human soul, and that is what we seek to grow.

The noble old horologist, his lens stuck in his eye,  condescends to enter in upon his menial task. Small fame or fortune comes to him from what he daily does, yet through his humble trade he’s glimpsed the workings of the world. For on his bench he masterfully lays the stars that roam the sky and moves the sun ‘round which they turn and daily dance with glee. A microcosm in his hand: the cosmos in his grasp. For his delight the spheres will turn, and at his frown they cease. The balance of this world obeys the judgement of his hands. Tis his to mend and his to mar where e’re his pleasure lies. But gently he performs his work, with love he orders all, and with a gentle shake he brings his dying world new life. 

One of my favourite things to talk about with my students each year are ancient myths. Myths shape culture and have become so deeply woven into the way that we think and speak today that they become essential to understanding much of the literature we read and even the various traditions that have developed in our own society. One of the books I use in teaching writing second semester spends some time focusing on myths. In the first chapter of this book, they set about defining myth. When we get to this part, I always ask my students to think of the different myths they have heard and tell me what a myth is. Most of them end up giving examples from greek mythology, and I usually get the same basic list of criteria for a myth: heroes, creation of the world, origin of cities and people, wars, invention of technology, explanations of events using supernatural means, etc. I then ask them, “Are the stories that the ancient greeks told about Zeus, and Hermes, and Poseidon myths?” To whic...