We rest, but still worry how

To live in the mountain,

How to carve the walls thick enough

And climb up, inside– stone-made steps.

We got here from following our mother’s torches

Illuminating novellas.

Old tales, probably impossible,

Of industrial gods defeated

Yet the earth mourns– still metal, after all.

But still– don’t destroy yourself, we plead;

Find the house and stop fighting.

Everyone is tired.

My fingers know repetition

From minutes of execution.

And I will make mistakes.

So I will not rush.

I just want to make parallels, callbacks, bookends, music;

Now with the lights out there is nothing to see.