We live atop this spinning sphere
Which makes our silly suppositions clear,
There’s no such thing as day or night.
It’s just a shadow peekaboo of light.
A slice of time to chop the fourth dimension
Like an endless sausage into slices, but really,
The Sun’s quite steady in the sky.
It’s we, imprisoned in our spin,
Chase the Sun as if it’s mobile in our sky.
And just as well our solid Moon
Shrinks and grows in occult illusions
A trick of spin to make one grin
At the ease we humans
Swallow confusions.
No comments:
Post a Comment