The night held close as I wandered my spirit unfooted to either earth or stone unraveled from tree undriven by iron nail but like the night itself a thing of air stripped of light so I came upon them, those masons who cut and carved stone in the night sighting by stars and battered hand. “What of the sun?” asked I of them. “Is not its cloak of revelation the warmth of reason in your shaping?” And one among them answered, “No soul can withstand the sun’s bones of light and reason dims when darkness falls— so we shape barrows in the night for you and your kin.” “Forgive my interruption, then,”
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