©2018 Vernon Miles Kerr, vernonmileskerr.com
Constrained as we are,
Between the blackness of the womb and the blackness of death,
Between the poles of this spinning ball of rock-and-brine,
Between space’s vacuum and the crushing press of the ocean depths,
Between the infinite and the infinitesimal,
Between Now and Later–
It seems we should be more humble,
More resigned to our limitations,
More accepting of our impotence
Before the feet of a sprawling Universe
So vast that light itself travels as fast
As a worm through wood.
Yet we plan such great plans of exploration
Of looking outward, never in—as if.