i.

in the beginning,

there was nothing.

 

we came long after that,

armed with not fangs or claws,

but blistering ambition,

and the ravenous hunger for

more.

 

more than warm food,

more than a place to sleep —

then,

more than the little rock

that had always been our home

 

we looked up,

to the infinite beyond,

and saw beasts in the stars,

and gods in the moon

​

​

​

ii.

the things we did not understand,

we gave names,

and stories

told our children of

nine suns falling from the heavens,

sizzling as they hit the vast sea

of the beautiful woman,

ethereal, in the moon,

mourning those she left behind

 

of titanic celestial beings

who made the heavens their home

wielding lightning like a sword

of creatures among the

twinkling lights

that guided us home

 

and with that hunger

we built,

and invented,

and created

​

welded planks and cloth to explore

the ends of our world

pieced together glass and metal

to study the others

and once we learned enough, we

sent ourselves to the heavens in pressurized tubes

with less computational power than an iphone

and when we died trying to touch the stars,

we tried again, and again, until:

​

​

​

iii.

we've learned that there were no chariots on the sun,

but hydrogen and helium;

saw not cheese,

but rock under our feet

as we took our first steps on the moon;

and with the burning thirst for

knowledge, truth,

for the reason why we were put on this world,

we strode far, and fast

 

(we’ve had a few hiccups;

see: the hunting of people

based on their skin,

and who they love,

and what’s in their pants—

 

the electing of a child

who refuses to acknowledge

that we are killing our planet,

and the people we should be protecting

 

but as with all things,

it will pass)

 

​

​

iv.

and today,

even though we know

of the heat death of the universe

that our planet is on a timer,

our sun on death row

​

that there is not enough

hydrogen

in our universe

to keep its fire burning

​

that one day,

the brightest star 

will burn itself out,

collapsing on itself,

and the shockwave from

its final

shaky breath

will see us 

dust to dust

 

and in the end,

there will be nothing

once more.

 

the world will end with a whimper

and perhaps so will we.

 

 

v.

but I think

we will be standing

strong

in another galaxy,

watching our sun heave its final breath,

two thousand millennia

ago,

because that's just

what

we

do.