I can see down into all the valleys
From my perch on the edge of the mountains
High within the clouds up in the Andes.
Like ants, the people practice their routines,
Going about in their typical ways,
Not even aware of my eyes above,
Watching them as they bundle through their days.
Have they been able to find what they love?
Are they stuck in their eternal circle,
Living each day like they have lived before?
Do they even know that their life is dull,
Not seeking out something with more allure?
Does my position give me perspective
That is different from the way they live?
John Collings 