Men,
troubled at last by the things they build,
may toss in their sleep and dream bad dreams,
or lie awake
while the meteors whisper greenly overhead.
But nowhere in all space or on a thousand worlds
will there be men to share our loneliness.
There may be wisdom;
there may be power.
Somewhere across space
there may be great instruments,
handled by strange, manipulative organs.
They may stare vainly at our floating cloud wrack,
their owners yearning as we yearn.
Nevertheless,
in the nature of life and in principles of evolution
we have had our answer.
Of men,
as are known on earth,
elsewhere,
and beyond,
there will be none,
forever.
|
|