On museum walls

There once was a time when I could see forever,
When I roamed the grasslands of my youth--
A shephard standing on the horizon
Gazing out at landscapes without end.
No frames could contain their proportions.
No contour lines led the eyes towards artificial depth.
Just multiple points,
Each with its own perspective,
In a vast and immeasurable expanse.
Horses once galloped in these wilds.

And then one day came a warrior
With a lasso twirling in his hand.
He rounded up the horses.
He put borders around the edge.
He tamed his environment
And installed those all-too-familiar lines.
The shephard who once peered out into infinity
Is now a figure in a painting on museum walls.
Occasionally a passerby comes along
And recognizes what the shephard saw.