eternal demarcations

Four men started the journey-
East, West, North and South:
Duly named they were,
For, on nothing, they ever did agree.

At the first ray of dawn,
They reached a seamless plain,
Undivided and undisputed;
"Perfect" they said in ironic synchrony.

East had the chains, to mark the land,
West had the tape, to measure it all.
A piece of charcoal, North did carry,
And from a stair's top, South saw it all.

Tore apart, land and its waters.
Island of thoughts, they spawned off.
And left it to men,
To fight over it and die.

"How boring, life has become!"
Said they all, in the same note,
Ironic synchrony strikes again.
Time to divide, it is again.

"Oh the air, is not split",
Said the North, and all did agree.
Set to work they, once again,
With tools of eternal demarcations.

East was in trouble,
To pin the chains in air.
West was worried,
What he will measure.

North had the charcoal,
Drawing lines in air;
And South fell off the stair,
Kept leaning against the air.

"Failure"
They said in synchrony.
"For how will we divide,
That we can could never touch"!!