A white beam pours from the gray;
There's an opening somewhere,
Sometimes that's enough
To know something is possible
Even if you don't know what it is.
Our routines confuse us.
Ennui is a cold paralysis.
The work itself unglues -
It's those mistakes
Other people make!
We lack the strength to be kind,
The gall to be real,
The necessary obliviousness
To what people think of us,
But we show up every day
Resisting each correction with a smile,
Listening despite what anyone says,
Finding some sort of agreement though
There remains no meeting of the minds
Despite the coffee pots drained in the attempt.
We call this progress,
The steady descent into mediocrity
Instead of the crazy perfection
Of seeing we're alone
In a world that is our own.
But then there's something out of place
-- A Starlink 18-wheeler as if it has always
Been there -- to remind us of the wire
To everything that's sacred, that everything
Is finally held together.
We just need to talk about it some more,
Figure out the best story to stick to,
And before you know it
We've forgotten why we came out here,
What we wanted to know,
The glow of everything shiny
In the mirrors of others eyes
Makes us feel included.
The universe, that is,
Is finally included.
