What if our arms grow tired
Of holding up the sky?
What indeed?
We have used them to tie the earth
Since before we can remember
And it is the earth which has tired, not us.
Our hands have bound the seas
For as long as recorded time
We are their captains, not crew.
We have wrestled with the air
Ten handsful of years
And are taking her secrets, one by one.
Now we reach for the stars and beyond:
The boundaries of our world defined our form,
But captivity has not exhausted us.
Why then should we fear the sky
Might crumble and crush us?
Our will is stronger than the physical:
We are the pattern-makers of our dreams.