The tribes labor. They dance feverishly
under the anvils held aloft and swaying,
They are both the sky and holes in the sky.
Silent with potential energy, they store
the speed they would gather, falling
toward the ground.

But the anvils are patient, they only sweat,
while thunder pounds some vast metal
against their surface. Clouds part
around them, and the moon escapes
monthly from the vast canopy
of their darkness.

The life below quietly crawls into the day,
leaving their caves, but holding tightly
to their fear. Eventually crops grow
for wary farmers and their shacks balk,
the roofs unable to fashion hope
against the shadows, against their judgment
and their guardians.

Farms become communities, populations
that spend their time craning their necks.
They would often discuss how far
they could tunnel. How deep
would the anvils delve in their descent?
But no answer ever suffices.

Soon buildings reach toward the sky,
step stools against mountains.
But the question presses, like gravity
on the stories of stone, and steel and glass.
They find that the only thing worse,
than a question with no answers,
is a question with millions.

Schools are dedicated to the study
of science and philosophy. Some think
the anvils are living dreams, paintings
on the skies of human consciousness.
Others think they are wrath, held back
only by good deeds and love.

As is always the way with difference,
it becomes hate. Nations coalesce,
from the knowledge that their answer,
is the only answer. They tattoo answers
around their fragile flesh, and scream
the answer before they rush into battle.

The anvils remain, as they always have,
Never speaking, never praising or
condemning the actions in their name.
The world moves in much the way
it has always moved, most can scarcely
Believe anything can continue when
The breakers of society have over run
with the memories of what’s been

One day a divorced man forgets the anvils
he walks out of his house, out of his town
and out of his country. He finds a quiet spot,
in a foreign land, and lays down on the grass

Anvil Anvil Anvil Anvil
Cave Cave Cave
Judgment Guardian Judgment Guardian
Farm Farm Farm
Community Community Community Community
Answer Answer Answer Answer Answer Answer Answer
Science Science Science Science Science
Philosophy Philosophy Philosophy Philosophy
Sacrifice Sacrifice Sacrfice Sacrifice Sacrifice Sacrifice