Blue Marble, you were a globe on a stand,
An old circular map above the chalk board,
A punishing weight on the shoulders of Atlas and Hercules.
You were too vast for legs to walk around,
Too deep for minds to comprehend,
Too mutable to be a safe haven.
You were covered by the living and the dead,
Who clung to your surface like strangling, spiral vines,
Who rose upwards to escape your own fisted clutch.
Now you are suspended in a colorful glaze that hides
the scars,
No more than an endangered disk set against an
insubstantial night,
No more than a vanishing point in a mechanical eye.
© cmheuer, 2016
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