Amputated human beings, only
gears, nuts and bolts that make up
the machine. Oh woe, who are we
but the first positive proton
to survive its opposite, the first
fiery bursts of fusion
to breathe light into blackness.
The first hydrogen atom
to find its partner, the first
galaxies to swirl and dance
to gravity’s tune. We are
the Earth’s first rain, mud puddle
and microbe. The first furry mammal
and the last dinosaur.
We are the last breath of humanity,
the Sun’s last ray of visible light,
the first collision of galaxies
and the last supernova.
We are the last breath of the universe
the silent second before heat death.
We— not humanity, not Americans, or any nationality, not homo sapiens but we, the consciousness that exists to say the universe knows itself— are the widest rings in a ripple, riding waves set into motion over 13 billion years ago.