Meet me at the frozen sea, the monster said.
Staring with a sort of cockeyed optimism, as
These devils and gods mold fire from ice.
And when it begins to dance, to the music
That reverberates in of, and throughout the rings
Of those trees. count the rings, count the rings.
Never before had I sat so still so as to
Keep my own song at bay. count the rings, count the rings.
Some gathered around and plucked berries, and others
Removed shoes and worshipped.
And in all there is praise.
And in thee there is praise.
And for thee there is praise.
As as answer to the age-old question, How'd
That bush get to burning?
We said it, we set it.