Dissenter Star

Compassion of stars,
a lament,
Please; not from me.

There we were, playful in our ignorance,
anti-matter, swishing merrily around.
A bit of catch-can, a little jostling for pole position…

A mass of happy innocents;
rudely torn apart, pounded to bits;
by the biggest Bang,

We crashed around,
flung together, pulled away.
Eons of recovery; till it was too late,
too late to be what we were.

Changed, we became stars; planets;
constellations; gas clouds; and loneliness;
propelled into empty space,
away from each other.

But you got it all, puny, tiny planet.
You got a neat little system;
minor sun to keep you warm;
proper elements, to start you off;
water to develop life.

You name it, you got it.
So what do you do,
produce a human species.
Arrogant, unruly, full of greed and hate:
and what do they do.

the only, beautiful place in the Universe.

You don’t get compassion
from me.