Zeitgeber—Zeitgeist

Mytheme [or possibly, ourtheme]:

Jones had thoughts but didn't count them. Like teeth, she kept most of them out of his head, to be found, on vicarious occasion, in the rose, in the gob of a beast, and, always, so on. She was wary at times of 'animal spirits' or any talk of ancestors and bones. She didn't know what it would mean to doubt himself, betokened 'the world was here before I was born, and will remain after I die,' or, simply, 'this is my right hand.' For that reason, she never spoke of it. She took things into his hands, yet, neither gift nor given, the words in his earthly refrain.

And, with quiet antipathy, she'd kill owls in their sleep, come daybreak. And, to gainsay the sun synonymous with again, she never troubled leaving without a trace, knowing that they would be only indices of him, occluding her, lost in the count of fragments. And, the sun would be the last thing that she would toss, beating the dust out of the rug of his eyes, at dusk.