Whether we walk by the mountains or sea
We consider ourselves on the ground,
But the birds and the fish far below disagree
And render the notion unsound.
The birds up above sing to each other
Of how humans choose not to fly,
Enjoying the feeling that comes from remaining
Always at the bottom of “sky.”
The fish and the whales and coral and seals
Think of our waterless place
As one way a heaven, in other ways hell,
Just as we humans must think of space.
We are at the apex, we are at the bottom,
All trapped by the pull of a star.
To some we are Gods, to others we’re vermin
And I’m just content that we are.