Dying day
I look toward the sun, as it dips away
Spreading night
The moon presides, the stars provide their ancient light
How strange of all this to be here, observed by only us
Who arrogantly declare ourselves lords of this mote of dust
Suspended in beams of sunlight
Suspended in disbelief
Suspended by strings of ignorance and greed
Not thinking
How strange to be... anything
Would you say home is too valuable to throw away
An unlikely order in the swirling dark
Unknown, but knowing