We think we are grand, do we not?
So did those bygone species I’m sure.
The colossal and the modest alike,
for which time inevitably granted an end.
I stand here in the sand, small
against big worlds
of immortality and infinite indifference.
I listen to the sea, the earth, and the stars.
And what I hear most while I stand
is not the persistence of the ocean,
nor the whipping of the wind,
but the language the universe speaks,
the white noise it plays.
I hear the constant humming it sings,
the ever-present reminder of its unsettling disregard.
Perhaps we should thank those archaic creatures,
for we would not be here if they did not die;
And one must wonder if our purpose
is the same as the extinct.
If that is so,
it brings a smile to my face.
For I am a human with a purpose.