I am the pig who builds the house of bricks.
I am the one who builds a ship in the desert.
I am the one who seeds the soil of barren lands.
When the skies are clear and times are good,
while others play I retreat, silently at work.
Few will understand; some will call me foolish.
I do not neglect others because I despise company;
I neglect company because I cannot afford distractions.
One day the wolf will come, one day the rain will fall,
one day the seed will sprout, and they will run to me.
I will welcome them; I will not turn them away.
My house will stand, my ship will float,
and my harvest will feed the hungry.
I will leave before them, and return to my labor.
While they enjoy the work of my hands, I will not be with them.
For every new thing that tries to kill you,
is always more ravenous than the last.
When it comes, I will be ready.