Every Mirror Is A Factory.

Locked in his tower, the prisoner designed a machine
Memory his blueprint, words his equipment
Conjuring the holy act of reverse engineering
He dismantled the essence of his world

His artifact somehow materialized below, and
He became both, the trapped creator and the
smoking behemoth, made of metallic words
Reflecting the cries of those that were set free

The contraption strode into the forest
Kissing the trees with the smoke of burning words
And the trees cried and kissed back, for
their leaves never felt an equal love

And the prisoner lost his sight but gained the machine's
And he saw not what he touched but what he knew from Before
And he knew the arcane plan designed for his body
And he grasped the means to achieve it, from underneath the air

He escaped, riding on the music of the rain.

He was never seen again. His machine wedded a tree.
But the tower became the container of a message:

"Undo our destruction, smiling to every mirror in the night
For filtering the light is a noble task that we shall not forget
We will build labyrinths filled with oaks and windows -
Silence shall be our fuel and the wind our fire
Until the Moon defines that the Age of Order has ended.
Yes, I have lost contact with the unholy logic
But I absolutely lack regret
And I will never say that I have seen enough."

- Carlos Gunj, ex monje anarco-peronista del futuro.