Feet planted in earth, eyes on the sky,
we live, millions of rooted feet
on a curved ball floating through space.
How do the penguins on the South Pole
stay fastened to the ground?
The earth holds our hearts with its beauty.
Our souls strive higher.
One day, the axis shrugged her shoulders,
just a little,
and you fell off.
I wander the leylines, bereft,
searching for you.
A questionable response to Susan's prompt at Midweek Motif: Gravity