Tomorrow is never guaranteed,
  But: planning for it, a "Need."

Candles in all the windows,
   on a blizzard night.
Icy self reflection
   of a face, of fright.
Prayers in frosted breath,
   hope you're alright.

The experiment,
   of life on Earth.
In the perfect Brew,
   found it's Birth.
With the eons, that
   would be known,
      as time.
Superior life forms,
   would fall,
      and climb.
One would come
   forward with
       it's claim.
With its, superior
   *****,  known as
      the brain.
They would break
    into tribes, to
       numerous to
           name.
Inability to share,
   would bring, strife,
      to the game.
It seems, the fall
   of the "humans"
      will "Be"
What can I do
   that's best
       for "Me"
Not, what's best
      for "We"

In this darkened interlude
of earth and sky
and its kaleidoscope of light
I see the irony

there’s comfort in the handprint of man
but none in the icy coldness
of the void beyond
where its suns shed no warmth

are our feelings only pasted
within the thinness of our earthly envelope
where raindrops birth and drop
and wash them all away

what worth has our ambition
our quest for brief bits of truth
when we perish in a wink of fate
and descendants know us not

when I view the starry sky
I see no godly guy
I see random scatter
and hidden matter

no evidence of intelligent design
just cold mindless blind
a nuclear stew
a violent brew

don’t mention the big bang
could be there's parallel gang
universes that always were
not requiring an initial stir

man will never last
to fully explore the vast
to understand it all
or explain it in human scrawl