My favorite poem is where the sidewalk ends by shel Silverstein
I can put it here and talk about it.

Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends.

There are lots of things that we think about that we don’t know the origin of. Like how did all these sidewalks get into place? Where do they begin and where do they completely end? Companies that came from nothing, what do they do? Is it just random offices where people click keys on computers? Is there a purpose to anything? Or is everything happening on a schedule? These things are pondered within the poem and makes me wonder more than I ever have…