The World Is Flat

The World Is Flat

On the steps wind stirs silently,
They stretch forever before me,
The shadows stand shaded,
The breeze moves the unmovable,
Zephyrus moves through me.

In the bare patch lies a rock,
The dog brings it to my feet,
So delicately it sets it down,
I stare, how often to we look,
At one inanimate object.

Too look at the tree,
Too stare at a solitary branch,
Too lose track of time,
Too gain the reward of personality,
Too find the branches life.

Look at the whole tree,
See all branches one in their own,
Yet without each other, doomed to expire,
Inanimate yet alive,
The winds causes them to dance.