Beneath the sky


When I was young and ignorant

The Earth was flat.

Trees hadn’t made any sounds,

Even after collapsing then

Inside a lonesome wood.

When I was sick I saw no signs;

But of course the black and gold letter

Below the telescope stood out.

It said not to look at the sun

Through my demonic lens,

Or your eyes would burn

Into charred cinders.

Beneath the sky I knew nothing

About insight, and intrigue, and instinct.

Always one step closer, farther

From the truth up there.

I looked once more in the lens,

Toward space’s greatest inferno.

In a moment the Earth grew round,

Stretched its ends to their seams,

Stitched the Pacific and Atlantic together,

Blew the boundaries apart,

and Bled entire nations into one.

When I removed myself from the stars

The vision faded before me,

Exploring through the woods

Brought me no prior solace;

All the trees had fallen, silently.

I felt the ground shift underneath me.

Restoring itself to my youthful simplicity,

Once my face grew wrinkles.

When I was older the telescope

Disappeared with my vision and my innocence

And the summer sun.

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