A Part of Existence

Our shell of carbon envelops who we are And we choke and gasp as the airs reach out for us, Pulls us, brings us out with it. But our black sheath tightens, thins the taffy airs Until it is but a thread of transparent soot We live on, Yet what thin breathe can sustain our endeavors? My struggle to break from this black covering - To perhaps chisel a passage through with my fingertips, my mind, my words And at last when I have driven my spike for hours uncountable My mind is let free to roam a plain of opportunity. No sport can bring so freeing an emotion - The knowledge that all shapes are malleable, that the distant horizon is a fallacy. I exist. Atleast until the earth again grows back And buries me in my sheath of carbon With tint of green mixed within this sheath. Regardless I take myself back to mining.