the crafts-man tinkered
in his craft-hut with his
craft-tools

the clinking of copper against
cool, cold corrugated sheets
like cymbals

the towns-people took interest
in this crafts-man. they observed
his work.

"what are you making, crafts-man?"
asked the towns-folk, and the crafts-man
replied with silence.

the crafts-man was old, and he still
had unfinished work. so he burned on until
he collapsed

the crafts-man was dying, and still
had not created anything yet. the crafts-man
was a fool.

he did not chase his dreams when
they yearned for him. he did not reply when
they asked for him