the world moves in its own time
at a tired and leisurely pace
paying little to no attention to what's going on around
this place, that place, these people, those people
this world with these crowds moves on at its own pace
a boy flew too closely to the sun
and his wax wings melted
and he plummitted into the ocean far below
where the world went about its business
and his white flesh sank into the depths
the workers go on working
the people go on walking
the world is on its merry way
the horses go on plowing
the children go on playing
the world is on a schedule
there is little time for anything else
so, the men in the boat stop and watch
as this boy falls from the heights into the waves
and flop and flounder like a fish
and sink into stillness and saltwater
then, the sailors sail on
because this is the world
and the world has no time for such trivial matters