Limited to a single space,
forsaken to live our lives alone,
some in happiness, others in disgrace,
far from everything else, alone
On a tiny blue dot, a speck
it's all like a house of cards
made with burnt the deck
that can fall at any moment charred.
Against the might of time,
we are powerless.
It is a wheel that never stops turning,
a fire that never stops burning.
It turned before you were born,
it will burn after you are gone.
It will see the rise and fall of man
who never learns, it's a fact.
I imagine time giving itself a face-palm
all while trying to keep calm,
when it sees the stupidity of man
and it's infinite span.
Perhaps one day we will do justice to our existence,
an existence which is nothing but a tiny speck,
survived only by our persistence,
and save ourselves from the upcoming wreck.
I hope I'll be around to see that day,
the day when we gave back
instead of snatching
and instead of destruction
a series of roses in our path laid.
SOURCE: 1