Perspective

The Earth shrugs, rolling over to get comfortable, and almost two hundred die.
Each soul is born aloft with almost a dozen babies' first cries.

The Tsunami took almost three hundred thousand, Black plague took 75 million,
We filled the dip and now are more than six and a half billion lives.

What is our future? Fleeing our overwhelmed planet, leaving Wall-E behind,
Racing to Venus in a final countdown, or maybe a Star Trek utopia will grow.

And what of me, what of each of us?

My song is mine. It belongs to no other
- but the lyrics linger, melody too.
Yours resonate with me, and mine with you.
Wherever we go, we are each a concert,
Each movement played by those we've known.

To the stars or not, one member of infinity

Still I shall remain.