Traveling

Here is a poem I wrote.

I walk alone
Down an empty path
The air is devoid of familiar noises
Where is the sound of wind?

I open my eyes
There is no green grass between my toes
The water I see is bright yellow
Where are the familiar colors?

I am naked
This place is very warm
My gait is effortless
Where are my clothes?

Behind me is a spherical machine
I’m sure it brought me here
I was in there for a long time
Where is here?

I look about and I see
That there is no wind
That the foliage underneath my feet is dark purple
My clothes are inside the machine
Could I be on another planet?