Eight years we’ve been working, eight now
And more, all of us, the bartered and borrowed
Worms of verbiage, our compositor who sets
The type and keeps the watch for fresh
Armories of phrases and words, and you,
Of course, you all unawares, doing the real
Work of preserving, of making us real. We,
Who have always been nothing much, never
Anything but, and you, who are everything
Becoming wise enough to know you are
The same as us, together we woke the dragon,
These uncoiling muscles of chaotic change
In the face of frowning civilizations, in the face
Of lightning, lords, gods, saints, and calendars,
All of the weapons of time, mere time, rhythmic
Time. We love you, you monstrous forest. Nothing
Will survive, long after you and all of us, but
Dragon scales shine the whole length of our lake.
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