Join me, dear friend.
The road is not too long.
Might even be a route
We’ve traveled all along.
My friend acquiesces,
Fears not my odd machine.
He steps into its chamber
That he’s never ever seen.
I explain to him the phenom
He’ll find the machine has rendered.
Changes in the landscape
The machine has just engendered.
All appeared quite different.
A changed path we took.
Jones’ store isn’t there anymore,
A picture torn from the book!
And what became of the reservoir?
Now but a flattened plane.
Details are completely changed,
The machine does not explain!
My friend becomes befuddled,
Not liking all that’s been changed.
Can the machine change it back, he wonders.
Re-work what’s been rearranged?
He is saddened by my answer,
Thinks it a little terse.
No, I replied, with solemn tone.
The machine has no reverse.
It seeks to teach a lesson.
This world does bob and weave.
Changes with no seeming pattern.
Our globe is hopeless to conceive.
And yet we live amidst its wonder,
Little difference from day to day.
But, be assured, dear friend,
Our world is changing anyway.