In the 17th and 18th centuries, mapmakers were sometimes called "world describers." Even given the sadly solid fact that in geometry to trace or draw the shape of an object is to "describe" it, it is still a shame that to be named in such a way has fallen out of fashion. Oh, sure, people still trace the contours of the world, over and over again given new information and better technology, but I am not sure that even they feel that they are truly describing the world any longer.
Which means that that particular work is left to the rest of us.
I have all of these secret plans that hang in my skies like beacons to other galaxies, but all I really wanted was to combine my wishes so as not to waste them entirely. Only it seems that in combination wishes lose some of their potency, some of their shine; they are rainbows well on the way to becoming only air. It was a shame to find them already worn thin with use, but I suppose that is what I get for handing my agenda to the universe and pretending that I am in charge. For confusing economy and selfishness. Again.
What I wonder is, what if all of the statues suddenly came to life? Would they know enough, having long watched us, to keep perfectly still and never let on about their sudden animation? Would they creep through the streets at night conducting their own secret plans, becoming more and more human through the simple facts of their powers of observation and locomotion?
These are the things that keep me up at nights. Perhaps I am only a statue myself.