Sky rests above this land
sky hangs bellow it—

and this world keeps spinning
and we keep running
we skip over the spiralling ropes
Jumping, ever jumping—
afraid to get strangled up
afraid to kiss the ground

What if this land tore open—
ripped and ripped till it were two
who would take us—

for we keep running and running
and we jump over the ropes
we jump then jump over again,
searching for wings on our arid backs
—we’d sail away if we could
and oh the worlds we’d see!
and secrets unleash

so we keep running and running
elevating our hopes up and up
till we’re one in the winds
but we never fly—
We fear the fall
afraid to wade into the unpredictable yonder
to rely solely on mercy of the grey bellow
—it entombs the people we loved and knew
feasting upon them, patiently
and nothing we can do will ever make it better

so we keep running and running
to keep warm our freezing hearts
but we cry only ice, it rolls down our bodies,
setting our flesh on fire, but we keep running
chasing the horizon where
sky is known to open her arms

but what lies above the sky
and if the ground split open
where would we go—

We laugh our questions away
and answers never sail our way
but then we blend in dirt and they lift us off
in their quiet arms; take us away
Where all’s to be seen and all’s to be heard
but there’s no one left,
and if a void is never seen or heard
what is there of the void but nothing

what lies above the sky
is it where all dead go
or where all unborn meet—
Is it where no one lives
or where no dies—

but its nothing we haven’t seen
for we implant our homes
not among the clouds but right here
on this broken land—
where no one lives and no one dies;
no dead leave and no unborn are new

and we keep running and running
for the world keeps spinning and
twisting and turning like a giant ball of clay
and we keep running and running--
mere pawns in an eternal play

we skip and we skip over the ropes
we then spin them for others
and watch them skip—
whirl away laughing when some
stumble and fall; these are our games
we keep laughing and laughing
hoping to laugh it all away

but we build our emerald halls
and dance in euphoric stalls
We invent new lands among the stars;
Tales of stollen dreams and made up hopes
tales of heroic norms and perfect forevers

and we smile in the starts and
we smile in the ends—
drink under our jewelled roofs and
Sleep with our flowers and pearls,
we paint this sky on our dreams
and remember it in our poems

But we’re not happy
But we’re not happy—
But we’re not happy.

and if this bruised land
that starves for our flesh
split open—

Where would we go?