dUSt

Who are we human beings?

We sigh from the depths

of the most immediate here,                      

exchanging gases with flora,

sharing space

with other members of the fauna,

inhabiting the blue ball that floats and turns

in a tiny corner of a milky galaxy.

Everyone, everything is stardust,

doing whatever we do.

Whose idea, whose invention, are we?

Vital, also lethal, this concurrence.

Will we be spared? Can we be saved?

Only, perhaps, through awareness and action.

Will we act with prudence,

and with enough urgency?