Swaddled in his red toga,
Sheltered by the Siamese structure
The faithful prepare the first ceremony
In the desolate plain
Weeks have been spent,
Dutifully gathering materials in the desolate plain
Charcoal from calcified crumbs
Streaked marbles chiseled to be perfectly elliptic
Sand patiently sieved and blended with potash
A slender old bone will be his stylus,
The sand his Tabulae