Poetry-Thing Thursday: Mote of Dust

Out among the stars,
amid the empty vacuum,
lays our fate,
our species’ collective end.
We come from nothingness,
and there we shall one day return.

Do not fear it,
for it is so far distant,
that before them the Earth,
will be gone–
even if by chance,
we manage to move on.

Fear not an end,
for it is only the beginning,
of something bold, new,
even if that is nothingness.
There’s nothing you can do,
so accept it and embrace life.

For time is ever marching us,
inexorably toward our doom,
which means to make the most,
of this mortal existence,
lest the end should come,
and you have no more beginnings.

Bear in mind we are,
but motes of dust,
on the wind and in the air,
in a gusting universe,
which seems endless,
and for us, is.

But do not let it,
burden your heart or mind,
for even the flap of an insect’s wing,
can cause a distant hurricane,
if channeled right,
prepared for flight.

Everything is a discovery,
for a mote of dust,
in a universe as large as ours.
Come to think of it,
I must admit,
I am a little jealous,
of future us.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: All Will Fade to Black

In space,
a cosmic place,
we’ll see stars,
Earthen binds no longer ours.

built to appease,
citizens who’ve been uprooted,
their species’ destiny rerouted.

Breathing air,
made with care,
for each loss is precious,
as the need of life progresses.

Such shall become our ways,
science and tech our mainstays.

We’ll harvest suns,
hydrogen tons,
use them to fuel our ships,
and cruise the void for trips.

And then one day,
we’ll have had our way,
and all will fade to black,
us and the ‘verse,
ne’er to look back.