While they slept

Lacking any pressing appointments

--Maybe a sun to explode 

Maybe a system to reset 

One of these trillenias--

And Having set down the curses

Of creation

On some distant planet

They must have left it all

To rest the fall

And winter 

Away

What surprises when they rise

And find their monsters and their men

And find the pride of their dreams

Come to life in the dreams of ant-worth wanderers

These magnifisenses may not be

 the trees and mountains of their reverie

But lacking any pressing portraits

They are yet made

And the world is yet made

While they slept the fall

And winter

Away