Future Japanese Islands

and now I'm walking backwards,

like the rest is history.

If your peaks are behind you,

then walking backwards is a rise,

unless you fall in pits

because you dont have the same eyes.

I'm floating up to stars,

the cities of the sky.

Some day we'll call them ours,

after we learn to fly.

But still I'm looking down,

at the lights upon the ground,

and longing to make love

in all the little towns,

and the websites even lower,

that shine in 2D space,

where the daemons become goers,

who move in them like place.

On our way to heaven,

and still obsessed with hell,

we overdrew the well

before the bucket fell.

We look forward,

to erecting

new official buildings,

made with marble

and Roman proportions.

The ancient,

seeming newer

than the recent,

And our maps

become manure,

to fertilize our reasons.

But still we must walk,

to the shores of California,

and once we reach it,

the salty shelf will shift,

and we'll be floating quite adrift,

on future Japanese islands,

before we've got unpacked,

with our minds as yet unwracked.