Heat dust under optic skies - 

the earth is round, 

did you know?

Can you see all the way 

to the dusty horizon, 

can you see

now how the blue 

arcs down to meet the ground and rolls

towards you like a wave?

What should we be here, I wonder.

Just sit.

Feel small like a bee but so much more alone

the hive mind whispers at the edges, 

and there's no-one here -

yet all around me is the proof

that soon enough will be a pudding.