Tricky, this: to be in the world lightly,
the spell unbroken, wearing without wear
the niche, the eggshell, amniotic sac;
to be born unshod to the forest floor.
For we are laden; we are greedy guests,
our weight is all-consuming, and the horn
hangs heavily. Footfall is all we know,
is our avoirdupois. And so we burn.
Second Nature: James Lindesay’s Poetry 