Note: this poem is a repost from my original, The Essence of Ideas, but I felt like it needed to be featured here.

I saw the echo of the moon

From the perch I sat

Saw the flickers of the lights

The interstellar diplomats

Her dark skies filled with ink,

Soothing stars brought Earth at bay

It hurt me much to even think,

What has day made of day?

A spiderweb of galaxies

And starlight from afar

The human race, their families

Wish upon the smallest star

Comets with tails of ice

Planets made of swirling gases

An airless world, yet a paradise,

Nothing like their fields of grasses

On Earth itself a soft bird called

Creatures content, swallowed in Night

The humans gazing up, enthralled,

Watching the universe from their campsite

The fates written a stellar plan

Because from where I lay

Never a question to what is man

What has day made of day?