When All Continents Were One

By Ramsha Naushad

The First Stare

Before the lands broke apart, 

before the oceans carved borders, 

Earth was a single mass Pangaea. 

And in this undivided world, everyone saw everything.

The mountains watched the forests grow, 

the rivers traced the paths of creatures, 

and the first beings, whoever they were, 

lived under the gaze of the whole world. 

There was nowhere to hide, no separation of sight.

The first stare was not just between predators and prey, 

but between equals.

The lion did not just look at the gazelle

The gazelle looked back, questioning the hunger in its eyes.

The hunter did not just track the beast

The beast turned, reading the fear behind the spear.

The stare became a force, an unspoken language. 

It was power, warning, curiosity, recognition. 

To be looked at meant to be acknowledged, 

measured, and understood 

or to be claimed, hunted, and taken.

Then the continents drifted, 

the lands pulled apart, 

and the world became fragmented. 

But the primal stare remained.

Even now, 

when someone watches you across a crowded room, 

from behind a screen, 

or in the depths of the wild, 

you feel it in your bones. 

A memory from when all beings stood under the same endless sky, 

looking at each other, with nowhere to hide.

By Ramsha Naushad