flatheads

columbus was as real as the earth is round

were it not true all of history would be but myth

were our earth flat

we'd live in a world of unbounceable balls,

no balls in fact

marbles would skip across the plane of a lake

people, like gumby fluttering in the breeze,

would wonder why they'd be called marbles

and rather not discs

no concept of bubbles delighting their sights

our own candies round,

to them would be swallowed,

in flat tubes called esophagus,

like the tapeworms that gnaw

at the knowledge of what we know is the truth

that the earth and the sun

all orbs in the vastness of space,

are spinning majestic with galaxies,

visibly testifying the truth

our 3-D world, reality with spheres

a realm of dimension of length, depth and breadth

making those envious,

whose minds be flat,

like pages recording

the voyage of that sailor intrepid,

columbus of old

who'd marvel at our telescopes,

below and above,

by which to sustain,

his wondrous discovery