Strata/Where Will We Be?

Tides ebb.

Forests rise.

Lives Flourish.

The city has accumulated here, like sediment.
Layers of stone dragged out of the ground.
Piled, here,
Beautifully, sometimes,
By generations of folk,
People whose hands, whose words, whose dreams,
Made this city into what it is.
Look at what they’ve done!
It... takes my breath away.

The city has accumulated here, like sediment.
Built on sediment!
Chalk and clay lie deep beneath your feet.
The beds of warm rich seas from long ago.
Long before we were here...
Creatures lived and swam and died.
Gave us their lives.
And we baked bricks, we dug tunnels, raised up
Cathedrals of snails and oyster shells.

The city has accumulated here, like sediment.
Millions of years of life beneath our feet.
Fish and ferns and elephants.
Saddlers, printers, priests.
The ghosts of this city lived and loved.
Had all the time in the world.
Then turned to dust.
Beautiful dust.
A bit like us.

The city has accumulated here, like sediment.
Layers of luck, and hope, and choices made.
By people looking at the world with awe,
But wanting more.
And here we are.
Dancing in their streets.
In what they made.
A paradise of dust circling out to Sidcup, Grays and Slough.
Circling the world... for now.

When all this is gone, where will we be,
Gathering dust, or feeding a tree.

Cities come and go,
They’re only made of stone.
Just fragments of lives,
Sand, and shells, and bone.
Dust accumulates here, forms sediment.
Life pushes on.
All we can do is stop.
Witness the time, the light, the company we’re in!
I mean, what are the odds?
Remember the ghosts, the future ghosts, those yet to come.
Hold them close – they’re family!
Don’t let them down, deep down, there’s time.
Just look!

Tides ebb.

Forests rise.

Lives flourish.

Strata build like stories.

Continents collide.

Dust accumulates here, forms sediment.
Traces of our lives form layers.
The story of our years –
Becoming building blocks and bedrock.
For the children of tomorrow, for theirs and on and long –
We’re ancestors already.
Though perhaps you’d never guess?
The endless line of life needs us.
To hand down more than death.

Tides ebb.

Forests rise.

When all this is gone, where will we be,
Gathering dust, or feeding a tree.

Cities come and go,
They’re only made of stone.
Just fragments of lives,
Sand, and shells, and bone.
People accumulate here, build cities.
We wake each other, each day, from dreams –
To make the world again.
Orbiting the sun we’re given time and light and power!
Extra ordinary life!
What we do matters.
We can make sure –
That loving, being, living, seeing –
Continue deep and long.

Tides ebb.

Forests rise.