Footprints of carbon across the sky
tell of struggle etched from stone.
Our place carved from cold granite
In between, humility and tender struggle.
It’s all-weather; the biomass of this planet.
Granite and air mixed like 2-cycle engine oil.
Shaken, not stirred.
Fuel for revolution
one step at a time.
Forward or back, nobody knows,
for our carbon footprints lead us
Away from here.
Away from this time, this place, these people and these opportunities.
Towards something for sure, but not here.
And the tender storms rage from age to age
through passing time,
trackless wastes but no stars to steer by.
Only footprints of carbon; leading us on.
Through this foamy sea of reality and the quiet noon
Boots of lead fueled by desire,
one carbon foot leads the next.
We wrestle to be known
though our struggle is not of flesh
nor of bone;
chilling echoes of liberty ring