Hand Me Another Abstraction

We have to finish building this thing 
By sunrise, when the lucidity expires 
Our plans are being realized in concept 
The concreteness in which we deal 
Folded again and again across the medium 
Or that's what I see in pictures of the brain 
The map of a territory we imagined 
Set in impossible stones upright 
A field dreamt without reason 
For seasons such as ours