There is much we don't know,
all mysterious and grand.
We got a bright shiny ball
all covered with sand
but no rules for play,
nor even a plan.
We're given room to grow,
so we learn and we scheme,
reach out for truth,
all posture and bluff
then try to split Infinity,
and count all the sand.
Without knowing the rules,
as children will, or fools
we made up our own to use.
We guessed how to play,
and all think we may
just try stealing the show.
But while we run about
and shout out our rules,
does the knowing Adult
looking over the board
laugh and ridicule
or smile and reflect?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem