Seventeen hundred years ago, you stood there. Over a mountain crab, a stone wall flows from west to east. You stand by walls laid with heavy stones, dragged there with raw power. You’re all alone now. You’re holding your spear tight. The skins around the forged tip feel safe, and the power lives in the muscles that have broken stone off the ground to extract grains. You are staring into the woods and your eyes are looking for a shadows that reveal that there is someone in the dark. You are listening. Is it just an animal out there, between the pines, or will I die tonight? When the morning slowly comes in with the pale light, Venus blinks with the Moon in the east. You turn your eyes up and see what I see.