To a Sowbug this Room of mine is a Microcosm of the known World,
The Expanding Universe of all awareness,
The Here and Now of it\'s daily strife.
Tomorrow an unthought of Event,
Yesterday, a board wiped clean with Lethe\'s Brew.
It knows nothing of Human History,
Or the Trillions of its Kin long dead.
Geography being the Wanderings along Miles of dusty Carpet,
A Monotonous landscape to blunt the eye.
And the Girdle of Ocean that meets the land:
An Obscene Notion dreamt by fools.
The four Walls a vast Horizon into where?
For isn\'t the World flat?
If it could stop - and Ponder on the Nature of it all:
There\'s a Tungsten Filament within the Sun -
And I a God.