As our civilization ages, thick forests give way to a balding landscape
Whose shifting sands are as fickle as the thin clouds above, we call
A permanent home, sandwiched between rock and dirt
Miles deep, a thick wall, impenetrable to the eye, its secrets
Can only be imagined, and air, that covers even the tallest mountains
Transparent as glass, and thin enough for our eyes to see the heavens
In every direction, life dances, its delicate threads pulled by our needs
And wants, which fray with time, our friend through thick and thin
Weaving an eventful life, for the grandest and the most insignificant
Amongst thoughts, they create a thick foundation, on which the thin
And delicate ego rests, unable to dig through the depths
Or see beyond the thick walls of the universe of its own making
