Humanity is like a bubble,
hanging delicately attached to nature itself.
Children looking curiously in,
like dancers in a dream,
unable to break free from their World
Laughing and learning together by day
Yet alone and invisibly afraid to sleep at night

Do not mistake this bubble for a pretty globe.
It is humanity itself.
And will burst long before this rock
burns its memory into deep space.

Then there will be no reflection
Not even your own
No more children looking in
Only the echoes of a lost race
It is simply a question of when?