The plates the earth is made of
Are the shaking quaking foundation
On which I rest my feet
What have I left to rely on?
I am not a child you can fool
With apparent stability
The ground can open up and swallow me
As it has a dozen times before
And not one of you can save me
Not one of you knows how
Not one of you will try.
I have my fault lines
The cracks plunging to the core
But you make mountains
Pushing, fighting, rising to the sky
And I am far away
Too busy trying to stay above the sand
Of the path that I must trek to you
Of all the mountains left to climb
Until, hand in hand, I can walk on stable land with you.