Down the winding wind a pale mountain path
the sky a half-black sail of stars below
up on the horizon rising mirrorly an Earth returns
my blinding gaze and sloughs, and flows, and lasts.
With an awkward, squinting focus
I try to scan the continents
but they’re all oozy
and in a strange configuration.
Breathing in the barren air, my lips disowned now roughly ask,
“how can I see the unbroken Earth while standing the Earth?”