Summer/ Fall 609 –
Never before have the two halves of me been working so hard for a common goal – my Mother’s eyes and mind fills my head, and ushers me at a blistering pace down a path of progress. Each day my war machine grows little by little, and I tremble in awe and fear at the violence that progress can wield. Yet I stand in control – this weapon will be used for the protection of Luisant – against the evils that lie inside and out.
My father’s heart and wisdom fill my mouth as I decree to Aspen my intent to become mother, that I may lead my people not in battle or in faith, but in the pursuit of change so that we may survive what comes. I have seen the way of the Vecatran’s of Dunnick – that they hide in plain sight by playing the role of traveling merchants. I know not of the ways of trade, but in tinker and craft I’m certain the circle could ply its skills.
I shall bring myself to bear against what lies ahead – that I may use the power of engineering and the power of Vecatra to protect my people. I herald in that which I have stood for since returning to Luisant: that the New ways must become the Old.
The careful text-books measure
Let all who build beware!
The load, the shock, the pressure
Material can bear.
So, when the buckled girder
Lets down the grinding span,
The blame of loss, or murder,
Is laid upon the man.
Not on the Steel — the Man!
But in our daily dealing
With stone and steel, we find
The Gods have no such feeling
Of justice toward mankind.
To no set gauge they make us —
For no laid course prepare —
And presently o’ertake us
With loads we cannot bear:
Too merciless to bear.
The prudent text-books give it
In tables at the end –
The stress that shears a rivet
Or makes a tie-bar bend —
What traffic wrecks macadam —
What concrete should endure —
But we, poor Sons of Adam
Have no such literature,
To warn us or make sure!
We hold all Earth to plunder —
All Time and Space as well —
Too wonder-stale to wonder
At each new miracle;
Till, in the mid-illusion
Of Godhood ‘neath our hand,
Falls multiple confusion
On all we did or planned —
The mighty works we planned.
We only of Creation
Oh, how luckier the bridge and rail!
Abide the twin damnation —
To fail and know we fail.
Yet we – by which sure token
We know we once were Gods —
Take shame in being broken
However great the odds —
The Burden or the Odds.
Oh, veiled and secret Power
Whose paths we seek in vain,
Be with us in our hour
Of overthrow and pain;
That we – by which sure token
We know Thy ways are true —
In spite of being broken,
Because of being broken,
May rise and build anew.
Stand up and build anew!
