To make the new world, to free tomorrow from the clutches of not done, we must bury the old world, shove ourselves inside the bone white sand, and there meet ourselves and everyone we have known. A wizard in her tower, oh let down your hair. A wild one, his one foot out the door of the prison cell. And a witch astride the world, who simply cannot leave any door closed, any stone not flipped like a table in the temple. We are all the pallbearers of what was. Roll up your sleeves. It's time to clean up.