11 · kelua

The last two aspects. pa marks a doing at its beginning (the first moment of it), and ro marks a doing that happens as a habit, the way a household breathes. Together they hold a morning: things starting, and things that start every day.

I

kelua shua.
sorae pa rihe.
lo pelori pa meliho.
womu maeli nai.

Morning comes; the sun begins to rise; the birds begin to sing; the house is quiet. pa catches things at their edge: not risen, rising; the first note, not the song.

II

wheo ro rihe.
wheo mua thepalu ro whunei.
phao ro rihe. phao nuora ro pilewa.
lopia ro nulae.
lohau ro shua.
misheko ro nulae.

Every morning the elder rises and breathes in the garden; every morning the parent makes food; every morning the child goes on sleeping and the dog turns up anyway. And the last line: the truth you have known since chapter one finally receives its grammar. The cat sleeps habitually. It was never news; now it is law.

III

lopia rihe.
lo miona pa nuola.
sorae phelo pa loa.
philo pa shua. One new word early: philo, day. The day begins to arrive. Chapter twelve will make much of it.

Breakfast begins; the light begins; the day begins. Three beginnings, one particle, and the household is underway.

IV

wheo maeli whunei.
lopia maeli whunei.
thia whunei.

Look at maeli standing before the verbs: a describing word placed before a doing describes the doing; quietly breathing, the way thiku pelori was a small bird. And then the last line, which is not about the household at all. It is about you. Take it as the book's first request: one breath, at reading pace, before you go on.

All five aspects are yours: si ongoing, ki complete, te ceasing, pa beginning, ro habitual. Phi tells time less by clocks than by these: where in its life a doing stands, and whether it comes back each morning.

The machinery, when you want it: the manual's Part IV, chapter 14 holds the whole aspect system.