The Moon, the Sun, rises above
The Earth (the earth
I stand (right here) upon)

May be seen to (May seem to) move
Or stand still
All a question of outlook

For the spinning planet (I hear)
Hurtles round the hurtling sun
Whilst I feel it not

I’ve been in aeroplanes
Way across the globe
In a passenger cabin

Unmoving, static
(Except to eat
Or else eliminate)

No surprise this impossibility
When after all perception
Resides in an imaginary skull

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on May 28, 2014, in Poetry, Writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Life’s mysteries do give us moments to pause and reflect. I’ve had this thought too. When laying on the ground and looking to the sky and see the clouds as they drift by is it the wind blowing them or are we spinning that fast?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: