Beneath our feet, the foundation lies, Not a ball, but a realm that defies. Flat and wide, the stage of man, Drawn with intent, not random plan.
Above, the dome, a vaulted shield, Resonant layers, the heavens concealed. The sun and moon in circuits glide, Lamps in the firmament, local and tied.
Beyond the ice, the maps grow dim, Lands forgotten, horizons trim. They sold us a globe, a cage of thought, To bind imagination, to make us thwart.
But the realm is ours, the ceiling clear, A theatre of meaning, placed us here. Not lost in void, not cast adrift, We are the centre, the Creator’s gift.
