Day 175: Cycles

The layers of prehistoric crust make me think

If the Earth is growing

On a base of dirt and rocks

Plants and animals birth and grow

Destine to recycle into which all are born

The ground, filling itself

Creating something out of nothing

Laying slices of paper upon paper

Will we become lopsided?

Tilt out of rotation?

Fall into the sun?

Everything that ever was is under our feet

Eating the past

While we trek ahead into mountains

Forging something that will find its way into wind