Nothing is left that deserves our dread,
all that was untamed lies beneath the rugs,
the steppes hold no blizzard now,
and ash has overtaken the roads.
And yet,
fear is the law,
no other. Nothing remains
to clear our gazes of brush;
our homes lie sunk in that
dark foundation upon which we cast
our words. We cry to heaven
and whole peoples are flayed
beneath the firmament. The buffoons shout:
Rejoice!
We wear the wolf’s skin!
We need fear him no longer…
The shadow we used to see in dreams,
the one to which we gave the first names
before we gave them to the light,
still flows in our blood.
We are afraid of ourselves
only
and upon that we have built the Word.
We Are Wellspring, p. 14