I want to fly through earth.
To see its subterranean vaults.
Its lava rivers, trenches,
the iron density of its core,
so impervious to our wondering.
The opening of doors,
the black energy of nothing.
Are there cities
of which we have no clue?
People moving through its walls?
Plasmas that recite poetry?
Could not?
Why not?
We’re nothing more than space
with an atom here and there.
The earth for all its rocks
is little more than lake
full of lights and shadows.
Black caves and quartz,
and perhaps others as existential
as we, saying to themselves,
I want to see beyond the ends of earth
where nothing is except walls,
behind which something pounds.