Cosmic Indifference and Crisis of Meh
on not a single tree
nor even a blade of grass,
warming a barren earth for no reptile,
nor even a single bipedal mammal
to bend a knee
in humble worship of Ra’s
once life-bringing magnitudes.
I won’t try to tell you how to feel about that
nor will I implore you to stand up and
do something to slow the inevitability,
for even if we collaborate to stem the tide,
it will happen inevitably.
One day the sun will rise alone,
scorching an already sterilized planet,
eradicating every gaudy man-made
monument to ourselves, and we
just may knowingly accelerate
this unavoidable fate
I won’t tell you to save a world that is
well beyond our combined will to save,
for it seems like hubris to even
entertain the notion of saving a world
from the cosmic nature of its
saving our planet, to me, sounds
as ludicrous as saving our lonely sun
from burning though its
finite supply of hydrogen,
and then its helium,
collapsing into a
cooling carbon cinder
of its once majestic brilliance.
But why won’t you think of saving the sun?
We’re wasting its resources, you know.
Why not warm your house with clean coal
and save some of those precious
hydrogen-fused released photons?
I won’t ask you to do that
because that would be utterly ridiculous
and just speed things along and
I greatly prefer slowing things
as much as those
though I won’t ask you to recycle either,
even though it would be rather kind of you
to join me in doing so.
I won’t tell you
to protest Big Oil
and petroleum products
because the cabinet full of pharmaceuticals
extending my lifespan, health and comfort
would compel me to mock my own hypocrisy.
But our planet is dying and
one day the sun will rise alone.
That was always going to be the case,
though we are helping to speed the process
significantly, and with cosmic indifference
bordering perverse zeal.
I won’t sit here and tell you to
get up and go do something about it.
But do get up
and go do something
for me; stand up
and take inventory
of the beauty and wonders
we’ve all taken for granted
from time to time.
If you’re fortunate enough
to experience the ongoing miracle
of waking tomorrow,
go stand outside and listen
to morning wipe the sleep from her eyes,
unfolding her wings, singing all around you.
If luck favors you with a summer rain shower,
let it soak you to your pores
and breathe deeply,
inhaling her perfume.
Observe regal, billowing,
wispy clouds march overhead
towards the horizon,
dissolving from view,
but still existing in both
mystery and memory.
I’m willing to wager that what you see
may cause you to gasp as you tenuously
grasp at your own insignificance,
and maybe, just maybe,
you may find yourself compelled
to preserve some of these moments
a few moments longer.
It’s not much;
perhaps even too insignificant
to make a sliver of a blip
of a microbe of a difference.
But one day the sun will rise alone.
What will you do until then?