We grind forward
Inch by inch
Slow and agonizing
Like dragging metal
Up a concrete hill.
Sweating under the sun
And groaning under the weight
Straining as we pull
Obligation and debt.
Bread and stone
Milling down
Finer and finer
Slow and sure
Blood and bone.
Eleven hours
And seventeen letters
Minute by minute
Closer and closer.
The hidden revealed
For all who can see
The centuries of death
Gone in a day.
The harvest has come
So now let us eat
The fruit of the trees
That we have grown.
Ripened with time
We see and we know
All that is
And all that was.
Now more than ever
The brave will speak
Head up
And dead level.
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