i have discarded
the stair. It has been
a long time.
No stairs then, and
no stairs ever.
this is a flat world.
mountains are
but illusions.
seas are realities
flat as flat as flat.
so there is an edge.
something to end.
an end to darkness.
an end to dawn.
for this is the essence
of being flat and
straight.
an edge, a cliff, a
stop.
and this is where
we take our rest.
overlooking beyond
us. we imagine.
they too are watching.
eager, excited about
how we are.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem