Mammon

 

Mammon

In the bigger scheme of things,

Queens and presidents and kings,

Are merely microbes born of lust,

Inhabiting a speck of dust

That spins and orbits, year on year,

A hot and so much larger sphere;

Three hundred thousand times, or more,

And yet that too is but a spore,

Inhabiting a galaxy;

Which galaxy is possibly

Among two hundred billion,

And multiplied a trillion,

The stars and planets’ count is worth

Ten times each grain of sand on Earth.

Hence Earth appears, upon return

A microdot of no concern

To anyone except ourselves;

Our neighbours merely empty shelves:

Now imagine, if you can;

Before all life on Earth began,

On every near and distant ball,

There dwelt not any life at all,

And presently, as man persists,

The only sphere where life exists

Is here, upon this minute speck

Of dust which we are prone to wreck,

With evermore unsated need;

A sad and lonely place indeed.