Where do they go?

I pass my days under a tree

while the whole world goes by

hurried, with important things to do.

Where do they go

No corners in this sphere

No space to eternally own

Tell them the earth is round

No point moving around in circles

gathering people and things

burdens that just keep growing.

Quietly I sit in the shade

witnessing this whole charade

unafraid of being called cowardly.

They beckon me with all their might

hoping someday I too will take flight.

Yes I too will fly…

not for the circumambulations of this world

but to a call of a different kind

Till then I’ll wait…

These faces I know

will someday come back

wearier and tired,

Trying to finally find shade.