Flat Land Voices

I stood upon a tall, green hill,

A hand to shade my eyes.

And I searched the ever ongoing horizon,

Where it met the cloudless, blue skies.

For surely, 'twas clear for all to see,

That the earth was laid out like a mat.

For all I beheld was horizontal,

The world as I knew it was flat!

But still there spoke a small, quiet voice,

It whispered unto me,

"Be wary, ye seeker of truth, be wary.

All's not what it appears to be."

Michael David

October 15, 1997

Note: This was written at request of an acquaintance as a reminder
          to look beyond what may be completely obvious.