Like Braille on a beetle’s shell
Glisten miniscule structures
Singing light up to me
Amidst awry hills
Like dunes in a desert
Or edges on crumpled aluminum
And thin, stretched roads slip through the gently defined hills and their contrasting shadows
As I chase the sun down to its cradle and embrace by night.
Just above me passes the outer layer of the clouds, the semi-opaque ceiling of the sky
Trawling past, as if I could reach out and run the pad of my second finger through it and watch it part like a contrail in flowing water
Or small ridges in sand.
From time to time,
Facets on the endless land
Appear as lakes, and respectable rivers meander through the landscape, undeterred.
Machinations of humans so small and irrelevant, each of us an irritating grain of sand on Mother Earth’s breast, leaving only red welts behind
Pared away from the earth and rock we sprung from, always to shift across the planes of time.
And the haze advances,
and the light retreats,
and the land below fades to night.
-- Kane S., 9th-12th Grade