The world is far more
alien,
than I supposed before.
All it takes to see this is a trip to
somewhere
humans aren't supposed to be -
the sky above, or foundering
in the deep, deep
sea.

The truth is, we've only got a tiny window of the
space that's on this earth,
and while we call it home,
there's far more we can only
glimpse and stare at
from afar.

There's a world above the clouds
that no one could have
ever seen,
(if we never made a flight machine, that is)
but always it is there, regardless of our eyes.
And when we've tumbled through
that air-space and
come down,
well, it goes back to being what it
was before - the gentle
undulating whiteness of the tops of
clouds and plains.

From a distance, it should be solid,
one thinks. A planet
of white rock, with blue sky
overhead
              and sun.

The tall and gentle creatures
that should live here,
soft of foot and hibernating
for years, perhaps,
in crooks and hidden crannies
- Lord only knows -
white of skin and eye and bone,
matching the world they live on,
unchanging and yet
never same.

But no. There are no creatures
in the clouds.
None but us - and we don't live there;
no, we wouldn't dare.
We'd die, if we ever tried.
And that's the point.

The world that we call "ours"
is just a sliver, just a slice
of everything this world is,
and all that lies between.