Square

People sit silently
in tiny cubes,
rarely conversing,
staring at
square screens,
square screens
that make
square eyes and square minds.
Square windows they see,
not... "as-is",
but... rather "to-be".

As they work,
they navigate
square grids,
deciphering
square data cells,
while they remain
trapped in their cubes,
like square prison cells,
where they
look
at square pictures,
and click
square buttons,
eat
square meals,
talk on
square phones
while they are
tracked by
square metrics
ensuring
square performance.

Square words with sharp edges,
make conversation
quite painful.

Square rhyme
and square reason,
obscure the passing season,
destroying the seas in,
the voyage of the mind.

Sometimes, it seems,
that square logic has won,
creativity is done,
and conversation is dead.

Long forgotten the times,
you'd see a tree, 
and ask yourself simply,
"Will I be free"?
Will you see,
all you can be,
when you stop being square,
(but still play fair),
and experience above all,
any shape you please?

After time has passed,
and humanity gone,
I hope it is found,
that our brains
(and the Earth)
are still, in fact, round.