Superiority
If the wind stopped moving,
If the rivers ceased to flow,
If the clouds no longer soared across the sky,
If time itself forgot to wrinkle—
We would not be who we are.
If stones were not so hard,
If the soil were not so soft,
If flowers did not bloom so beautifully,
If thorns were not so sharp—
How would we ever learn what it means
to be strong, tender, beautiful, and in pain?
Clutching a handful of breath in the lung,
Calling a few fragments of land “ours,”
Having gained everything so easily,
We proclaim ourselves the supreme beings.
Being unaware of nature’s rhythm,
Unthinking of its laws and fleeting existence,
One day,
The descendants of some future evolved species
will look at humans locked inside cages and say—
“Once, they were the advanced creatures of an age.”
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