it is true. the sun is a chariot chasing a_fire. the sun is a ship in cloud-seas, climbing higher. the sun is an all-seeing eye. the sun is a ball beetle-rolled across sky. the sun is nucleicombustion. the sun is the surest sign we put our trust in.

but the sun is also a dance: a series of movements, none chosen by chance, best [b]reached by the trails of transfixion and trance.

there are sundogs and sundays and sundial[ignment]s, sun gods and sun’shines and sun icon[signment]s. the sun has its flowers and fishes and flares; the sun has spots, and the sun has thoughts, though earthbound men be ever unawares.

but the sun, being a dance, must also have dancers: kineticonjurational heliomancers.

when we press, when we burn, when we shine, when we rise, then we [st]are like the sun from-and-into our eyes. and when, as we do this, we feel ourselves move, we put into practice what we wish to prove.

the sun is a symbol; the sun is a star. but the sun’s also here wherewhen you and i are; when we’re, when we’re dancing, when day dreams of night, when secret skin meets second sight to bathe in heat and bask in light.

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