The half a villiage on a mountain side.

Not more than a  place to learn,

Than a place to worship.

I have to get it together.

The construction begins.

Barriers are torn down and relationships built.

The concrete of faith is laid.

Not but one steet to walk home on.

The bugs and devil work in unison to catch our minds.

A tired body leads to a tired mind,

And an easy target.

The days get longer,

as heat waves rise from the roofs we work on.

and the nights chill to the edge.

As the howlers keep our eyes from shutting,

The night keeps morning from coming.

The sun rises as takes us to work.

When the sun falls behind the mountains,

Our heads wait to fall to the pillows.