The 9th - we immediately notice - has three glyphs, an odd number announcing bad luck. Here the sun 'dies' at the western horizon, disappears from sight.

The same message is delivered by the reversed tapa mea with only five marks. In addition to being an odd number this presumably alludes to the 'death' of the sun at winter solstice. One period of the sun has passed away and we will wait for the next one.

The middle glyph, toga (GD73), stands for death and we remember that 9 (as in 9th period) means the dark underworld. The sun begins his travel under the earth to emerge next morning in the east.

The shape of the sun in Aa1-32 is characterized by an unusually large disc, which indicates that he is like a ripe fruit that has fallen to the ground. A sign that this season has ended and the next now is being prepared.

I have here used boustrophedon (though without inverting the glyphs), turning at noon, to show the sun's ascent and descent during the day. Birth (2nd period) is opposite to death (9th period) and the six parts of the day are divided into two groups: 3-5 growth and 6-8 retracing the steps of the morning.

We also notice that the middle top flame is like the top part of a triangle, the mountain at the end of the road.

"A Scorpion-Man plays also another part in the cosmology of the Babylonians. The Scorpion-Man and his wife guard the gate leading to the Maśu mountain(s), and watch the sun at rising and setting.

Their upper part reaches to the sky, and their irtu (breast?) to the lower regions (Epic of Gistubar 60,9). After Gistubar has traversed the Maśu Mountain, he reaches the sea. This sea lies to the east or south-east.

However obscure these conceptions may be, and however they may render a general idea impossible, one thing is clear, that the Scorpion-Men are to be imagined at the boundary between land and sea, upper and lower world, and in such a way that the upper or human portion belongs to the upper region, and the lower, the Scorpion body, to the lower.

Hence the Scorpion-Man represents the boundary between light and darkness, between the firm land and the water region of the world.

Marduk, the god of light, and vanquisher of Tiamat, i.e. the ocean, has for a symbol the Bull = Taurus, into which he entered in spring.

This leads almost necessarily to the supposition that both the Bull and the Scorpion were located in the heavens at a time when the sun had its vernal equinox in Taurus and its autumnal equinox in Scorpio, and that in their principal parts or most conspicuous star groups; hence probably in the vicinity of Alderbaran and Antares, or at an epoch when the principal parts of Taurus and Scorpio appeared before the sun at the equinoxes.  [Cited from Jensen in his 'Kosmologie der Babylonier']

If my suggestion be admitted that the Babylonians dealt not with the daily fight but the yearly fight between light and darkness - that is, the antithesis between day and night was expanded into the antithesis between the summer and the winter halves of the year - then it is clear that at the vernal equinox Scorpio setting in the west would be watching the sunrise; at the autumnal equinox rising in the east, it would be watching the sunset; one part would be visible in the sky, the other would be below the horizon in the celestial waters.

If this be so, all obscurity disappears, and we have merely a very beautiful statement of a fact, from which we learn that the time to which the fact applied was about 3000 B.C., if the sun were then near the Pleiades." (Lockyer)

However, the triangular shape of the top mid flame of the sun could also be a graphic illustration of the path of the sun during the day: birth, maturity, death. The apex is at noon.

This 'mountain' is similar to the 'mountain' at death, both symbolize cardinal points. If we read the top mid flame as the 'mountain of the day' then we suddenly realize that the sun is now below this 'day mountain', i.e. travelling under the world we can see.

The toga glyph, Aa1-33, indicates that sun has left our world.

The word toga means - among other things - a post supporting the roof:

This roof (sky) supporter (toko te rangi - cfr GD32) is marking the time when sun disappears, not only in the day frame of reference but also in the frame of reference for the sun's yearly movements. Therefore we should think of toga as a post also marking winter.

"The Akkadians called it [Antares] Girtab, the Seizer, or Stinger, and the Place where One Bows Down, titles indicative of the creature's dangerous character; although some early translators of the cuneiform text rendered it the Double Sword.

With later dwellers on the Euphrates it was the symbol of darkness, showing the decline of the sun's power after the autumnal equinox, then located in it. Always prominent in that astronomy, Jensen thinks that it was formed there 5000 B.C., and pictured much as it now is; perhaps also in the semi-human form of two Scorpion-men, the early circular Altar, or Lamp, sometimes being shown grasped in the Claws, as the Scales were in illustrations of the 15th century." (Allen)

Perhaps the shape of Y originated in the claws of Scorpio? The Lamp (= sun?) was grasped in these claws. The ancient Egyptians connected Antares (and also α Centauri) with Selket (picture from Lockyer):

Here, possibly, the egg of the sun is seen secured between the 'horns' of Selket. Notice also that the sun-symbols on her back are 36, whereof we can see 3 * 6 = 18. Those are certainly her eggs (the next years periods).

Checking where scorpions carry their eggs I find that she indeed carries her spawn of her back (picture from Brehm "Djurens liv"):

But this one (from the Philippines) carries 34 youngsters on her back. Eggs are never there on her back, the eggs are hatched at once after birth. Certainly the ancient Egyptians knew that. Is it a coincidence that there are 9 straws visible at the base of her tail?

In Aa1-34 we can see the reversed tapa mea as a picture of the sun 'falling on his face' (a Polynesian way of speech for dying):

"…according to a legend told in Hawaii, when a man named Ulu, dwelling near the present city of Hilo, died of famine. He and his wife had a sickly baby boy whose life was endangered by the general scarcity of food, and the man, distracted, had gone in prayer to the temple at Puueo, to learn from the god what should be done. 

Now the god of that temple was of a type known in Hawaiian as the mo'o: which is a word meaning 'lizard', or 'reptile'. But the only reptile in Hawaii is a harmless, even affectionately regarded little lizard that scurries up and down the walls of people's houses and clings like a fly to ceilings, trapping insects with its quick tongue. 

The manner in which the mythological system of the islands has magnified this innocuous creature to the proportions of a greatly dangerous divine dragon supplies one of the most graphic illustrations I know of a mythological process - seldom mentioned in the textbooks of our subject but of considerable force and importance nevertheless - to which the late Dr. Ananda K. Coomaraswamy referred as land-náma, 'land naming' or 'land taking'. 

Through land-náma, 'land-naming', or 'land taking', the features of a newly entered land are assimilated by an immigrant people to its imported heritage of myth. We have already noted the case of the role of the serpent assumed by the eel. We are now considering that of the same serpent role assumed by a harmless lizard. 

We might also have considered the manner in which the Pilgrim Fathers and pioneers of America established their New Canaans, Nazareths, Sharons, Bethels, and Betlehems wherever they went. The new land, and all the features of the new land, are linked back as securely as possible to the archetypes - the spiritually, psychologically, and sociologically significant archetypes - of whatever mythological system the people carry in their hearts. 

And through this process the land is spiritually validated, sanctified, and assimilated to the image of destiny that is the fashioning dynamism of the people's lives…" 

"To proceed, then, with the legend of the origin of the breadfruit: When the man, Ulu, returned to his wife from his visit to the temple at Puueo, he said, 'I have heard the voice of the noble Mo'o, and he has told me that tonight, as soon as darkness draws over the sea and the fires of the volcano goddess, Pele, light the clouds over the crater of Mount Kilauea, the black cloth will cover my head. And when the breath has gone from my body and my spirit has departed to the realms of the dead, you are to bury my head carefully near our spring of running water. Plant my heart and entrails near the door of the house. My feet, legs, and arms, hide in the same manner. Then lie down upon the couch where the two of us have reposed so often, listen carefully throughout the night, and do not go forth before the sun has reddened the morning sky. If, in the silence of the night, you should hear noises as of falling leaves and flowers, and afterward as of heavy fruit dropping to the ground, you will know that my prayer has been granted: the life of our little boy will be saved.' And having said that, Ulu fell on his face and died. 

His wife sang a dirge of lament, but did precisely as she was told, and in the morning she found her house surrounded by a perfect thicket of vegetation. 'Before the door,' we are told in Thomas Thrum's rendition of the legend, 'on the very spot where she had buried her husband's heart, there grew a stately tree covered over with broad, green leaves dripping with dew and shining in the early sunlight, while on the grass lay the ripe, round fruit, where it had fallen from the branches above. And this tree she called Ulu (breadfruit) in honor of her husband.

The little spring was concealed by a succulent growth of strange plants, bearing gigantic leaves and pendant clusters of long yellow fruit, which she named bananas. The intervening space was filled with a luxuriant growth of slender stems and twining vines, of which she called the former sugar-cane and the latter yams; while all around the house were growing little shrubs and esculent roots, to each one of which she gave an appropriate name. 

Then summoning her little boy, she bade him gather the breadfruit and bananas, and, reserving the largest and best for the gods, roasted the remainder in the hot coals, telling him that in the future this should be his food. With the first mouthful, health returned to the body of the child, and from that time he grew in strength and stature until he attained to the fulness of perfect manhood. 

He became a mighty warrior in those days, and was known throughout all the island, so that when he died, his name, Mokuola, was given to the islet in the bay of Hilo where his bones were buried; by which name it is called even to the present time." (Campbell)