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Then
we
thought
of
the
meaning
of
that
which
lay
before
us
.
We
can
light
our
tunnel
,
and
the
City
,
and
all
the
Cities
of
the
world
with
nothing
save
metal
and
wires
.
We
can
give
our
brothers
a
new
light
,
cleaner
and
brighter
than
any
they
have
ever
known
.
The
power
of
the
sky
can
be
made
to
do
men
’
s
bidding
.
There
are
no
limits
to
its
secrets
and
its
might
,
and
it
can
be
made
to
grant
us
anything
if
we
but
choose
to
ask
.
Then
we
knew
what
we
must
do
.
Our
discovery
is
too
great
for
us
to
waste
our
time
in
sweeping
the
streets
.
We
must
not
keep
our
secret
to
ourselves
,
nor
buried
under
the
ground
.
We
must
bring
it
into
the
sight
of
all
men
.
We
need
all
our
time
,
we
need
the
work
rooms
of
the
Home
of
the
Scholars
,
we
want
the
help
of
our
brother
Scholars
and
their
wisdom
joined
to
ours
.
There
is
so
much
work
ahead
for
all
of
us
,
for
all
the
Scholars
of
the
world
.
In
a
month
,
the
World
Council
of
Scholars
is
to
meet
in
our
City
.
It
is
a
great
Council
,
to
which
the
wisest
of
all
lands
are
elected
,
and
it
meets
once
a
year
in
the
different
Cities
of
the
earth
.
We
shall
go
to
this
Council
and
we
shall
lay
before
them
,
as
our
gift
,
this
glass
box
with
the
power
of
the
sky
.
We
shall
confess
everything
to
them
.
They
will
see
,
understand
and
forgive
.
For
our
gift
is
greater
than
our
transgression
.
They
will
explain
it
to
the
Council
of
Vocations
,
and
we
shall
be
assigned
to
the
Home
of
the
Scholars
.
This
has
never
been
done
before
,
but
neither
has
a
gift
such
as
ours
ever
been
offered
to
men
.
We
must
wait
.
We
must
guard
our
tunnel
as
we
had
never
guarded
it
before
.
For
should
any
men
save
the
Scholars
learn
of
our
secret
,
they
would
not
understand
it
,
nor
would
they
believe
us
.
They
would
see
nothing
,
save
our
crime
of
working
alone
,
and
they
would
destroy
us
and
our
light
.
We
care
not
about
our
body
,
but
our
light
is
.
.
.
Yes
,
we
do
care
.
For
the
first
time
do
we
care
about
our
body
For
this
wire
is
as
a
part
of
our
body
,
as
a
vein
torn
from
us
,
glowing
with
our
blood
.
Are
we
proud
of
this
thread
of
metal
,
or
of
our
hands
which
made
it
,
or
is
there
a
line
to
divide
these
two
?
We
stretch
out
our
arms
.
For
the
first
time
do
we
know
how
strong
our
arms
are
.
And
a
strange
thought
comes
to
us
:
we
wonder
,
for
the
first
time
in
our
life
,
what
we
look
like
.
Men
never
see
their
own
faces
and
never
ask
their
brothers
about
it
,
for
it
is
evil
to
have
concern
for
their
own
faces
or
bodies
.
But
tonight
,
for
a
reason
we
cannot
fathom
,
we
wish
it
were
possible
to
us
to
know
the
likeness
of
our
own
person
.
We
have
not
written
for
thirty
days
.
For
thirty
days
we
have
not
been
here
,
in
our
tunnel
.
We
had
been
caught
.
It
happened
on
that
night
when
we
wrote
last
.
We
forgot
,
that
night
,
to
watch
the
sand
in
the
glass
which
tells
us
when
three
hours
have
passed
and
it
is
time
to
return
to
the
City
Theatre
.
When
we
remembered
it
,
the
sand
had
run
out
.
We
hastened
to
the
Theatre
.
But
the
big
tent
stood
grey
and
silent
against
the
sky
.
The
streets
of
the
City
lay
before
us
,
dark
and
empty
.
If
we
went
back
to
hide
in
our
tunnel
,
we
would
be
found
and
our
light
found
with
us
.
So
we
walked
to
the
Home
of
the
Street
Sweepers
.
