where does the world sit when it feels tired? is there an endless bench that overlooks our universe? where does earth rest when trodden and worn down when the spinning arching looping days have worn long wrinkles with brown and grey clouds streaking north and south? when does the world ache its ache and feel the weight of itself can it give its wounds away to the care of other worlds? has saturn stretched its rings to her or jupiter its moon can mars give itself away or mercury draw near? will the sun’s rays warm earth’s skin when dawn breaks in early morn and reminder of her molten strength boiling at the core? earth, your spinning face, seems to be stern and wearing out… how and where and when and why are questions full of doubt— i wish to take your endless form and wash it white as snow, yet there is o