The moving swirling rock

Looking back at the earth,

that blue moulded vital planet

strewn with the swirl of clouds,

I began to think that it

was not so big and

not so important after all.


This moving, swirling rock

is as small as dust and not the

centre of the spheres,

as some of the ancients thought,

for there is no centre of the

universe, as it goes on

to god knows where.


And we, as working ants,

live on this fragile abandoned

speck in space, oblivious,

warmed by the sun,

and fighting our petty wars

and dreaming of what

might be in a future

that no one can know

among the vast genius

of the universe.