Omnes iudices urbanaeque plebes
et artium officia cunctarum venerabili
die solis quiescant …
(Constantine I *)
Years flow as tears from each season's eye,
laughing and crying in a circle of suns.
Tides rise and fall. Moons come and go.
The world turns. It has always unfolded so.
Only in the vanity of meaningless marks
does time begin or end.
Which way does a circle run, left or right?
Is light the shadow of the night?
Who stands breathless as sun walks
the tightrope of the day?
What madmen parched and dry
applaud his fall from sky? And why?
E. A. Costa 1 January, 2016 Granada, Nicaragua
*Codex Justinianus III.12.2