Back then

Back then the world had just become round,

the map curling and folding,

from a rectangle into a globe.

 

The people came from

the eastern ocean and thrust

their flags into the ground.

 

They fought among themselves

and traded and schemed

but lost the basic principles

espoused by their beloved Locke

while attempting to make

his dreams come true.

 

Wiser eyes watched and even trusted,

but the voyagers had serpent tongues

and burned, and burned, and burned.

 

People think that the world changes as it

turns clumsily on its axis

and the centuries tumble downhill.

 

But these people are the same and 

the bridges that they built then

still stand

and the fires they started

with sparking flint and matches

still rage

but for some reason 

they always still say

Where did these fires come from?

Why is there ash in this world?

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world

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