The world is often smaller
Than the maps we hold in our hands

Though vision made concrete
Is the true fruit of anyone’s plans

Maybe that marks the difference
Between apathy and awe
How grandiose our vision
Before digesting what we saw

Imaginations fueled
Scraped knees
Building kingdoms in our minds
Woodland forts out of reeds

Don’t let anticipation
Spoil the ground beneath your feet
Nor adventure in action
Outweigh the visions that you seek

This world is often larger
Offering what could never be foreseen

Etch your maps, clutch them tight!
Though pay heed to the road before you

And all the spaces in between


One thought on “Anaximander

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