It's humans who make the lines, not the earth.
Thick plates drifting over deep fire.
Europe. Asia. They share one crust - it is unbroken.
If we call it Eurasia, there are six left over. If we go further south, we find a huge ocean shelf that has sunk long ago. If we call that one Zealandia, that makes eight.
Our maps lie to us. We split land by culture, but it makes hard borders with no water.
Hard rocks do not care that we name them. Large pieces slowly move away from each other. Ancient oceans dry up. New lands completely covered up.
The mapmakers. They find comfort in the numbers. Underneath the surface, the earth constantly moves, shifting under the heavy foot. Soon, the ice will melt, raising the black water to swallow the shores we know.
It breaks through the boundaries we created long ago - Our beautiful drawing breaks apart yet again.