A canvas of matter and all the empty space,
Frames of light, pictures from past positions,
Our privilege to glance at the once was,
Projections of our lives and moderate climates,
Existence held in a traveling form from eras before,
At last reaching down and softly grasping
The rocks and trees and streets and minds,
A dimly lit reflection of Earth and our time,
I guess that I am the same as I was,
And contemplation of those specks and lines,
Do we think that they really feel anything?
All that we see or seem is but
A living math equation without an end,
Mechanical certainty, clockwork beauty,
Do they really feel anything at all?
All the mass that persists gathers into
Clusters of spheres, rotating and revolving,
Organic efficiency leans and collapses
Together in an eternal embrace.
All these plants and animals are linked,
They eat each other, a natural recycle
Until thought became flesh on the Third Planet,
And the stars became teachers,
Giving knowledge to this globe,
Bound and willing to explode,
Projecting, reflecting, hoping and weeping their light,
Lending their beauty and hope to our night.