Glimpses of light,
we were prepared for only glimpses.
Each drop we created fuels a week of searching,
we are instruments in a task so different  than
what we imagine to be doing.
The forest grows through our actions, while
we are preoccupied sitting at our desks, with our repetitive worries.
The fantasy of control, breaks down again and again.
What keeps us together I do not understand.
The master takes control once a day,
to make us build this house we will in our old age share.