shallowmess

I am a surface
of infinite shallowness,
it's a birth defect, I'm just
lucky I guess. I press
benches and trenches down up
into paths and planes
I journey early late
and always to return again,
and it's all
the same.
And I am all
the same.

I'm just a surface
of infinite shallowness, you can
spend your life in mirrors just
exploring the depths, sometimes
the more well-examined, you get
less profound. Making circles
into spheres to keep going
around,
but it's all
the same.
And you are all
the same.
And I am all
the same.
You have one move more to make
and it isn't a game,
but

your hand is still on the piece. Move it back,
if you want there's no rule against that. But one:
we all saw the square you began to move to,
and it isn't a game. So whose turn is it on?

You're just a surface
of infinite shallowness
it's a natural fact,
we're just lucky I guess
that you happened to give
what you happen to have.
If you tilt it, near and far
are barely points apart
in the satellite nav
of the universe
in any sky you can find,
shining behind each new pair of eyes
in your newly-amazed
or perhaps just
amazing mind.