Every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there �

On a mote of dust

suspended in a sunbeam

The Earth is a very small stage

in a vast cosmic arena
Think of the rivers of blood
spilled by all those generals and emperors,

so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters
of a fraction of a dot
Think of the the endless cruelties

visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel
on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner
How frequent their misunderstandings

How eager they are to kill one another
How fervent their hatreds


Our posturings, our imagined self-importance,
the delusion we have some privileged position in the Universe,
are challenged by this point of pale light

Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark