I think about the little stuff,
The things you cannot see;
Invisible, but sure enough
A drop contains a sea.

Motes are distant galaxies,
Impossibly beyond,
Through interstice a strategy
To span the gap is spawned.

Perhaps a better microscope
Could help us see within,
A kingdom for a misanthrope
The tenets underpin.

Many of us think that there
Is life in outer space
And maybe they are well aware
Of human kind's disgrace.

It's infinitely likely that
Humanity's demise,
Will come from unknown places at
The nearest reach of size.
                              rc