And you wait, expecting that one thing that your life endlessly shall multiply; that one powerful, immense thing, the awakening of stones, depths, coming back to you.
Volumes of gold and brown emerge as dawn out of the bookshelves; and you reflect upon lands traveled through, on images, on the garments of women lost once again.
And then you realize suddenly: that was it. You rise up and before you stands the fear and shape and prayer of a year gone by.
