We think we are grand, do we not?

So did those bygone species I’m sure.

The colossal and the modest alike,

for which time inevitably granted an end. 

I stand here in the sand, small 

against big worlds

of immortality and infinite indifference.

I listen to the sea, the earth, and the stars.

And what I hear most while I stand

is not the persistence of the ocean,

nor the whipping of the wind,

but the language the universe speaks,

the white noise it plays. 

I hear the constant humming it sings,

the ever-present reminder of its unsettling disregard.

Perhaps we should thank those archaic creatures,

for we would not be here if they did not die;

And one must wonder if our purpose

is the same as the extinct.

If that is so,

it brings a smile to my face.

For I am a human with a purpose.