The Sphere

Once on, there is no way off.
All paths will cross eventually (in theory),
and gravity clings all to its stony lap.
You often wonder how you got here, or got anywhere.
The answer is never clear.
You walk upon the sphere.

The sphere looks outward,
for its innards are only mineral and hot mud.
There are tasks to be done,
and they are done to varying degrees of success.
Some close to perfection.
We walk upon the sphere.

Our journeys grow longer
but still blink in and out momentarily.
Tasks become ends in and of themselves.
Each day we steal from the sphere.
The weight sucks stronger by the year.

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