He never cared for shoes,
He cared more about the Earth beneath
He'd keep walking as the trees turned to stumps;
He fought, with many alongside him.
They were dirty and calloused.
Eroded and broken
from a life of abuse.
As the sky turned dark and smoke filled the air,
he stood with some.
The feet became blistered,
on roots and dirt, pebbles and flowers. As stars in sky
Were outshone by stars in streets,
He stood with those who were left.
His feet, cold atop the manmade stone.
When the stones we made grew taller than the mountains,
He sat alone
His feet,
destroyed by the Earth- were finally covered,
And Each day,
a new pair was chosen,
Meticulously,
From a sandalwood rack.