Lemonade

I am quarks and atoms

And inevitable apoptosis. 

I am dust, the vortices of maddening jets 

From a pregalactic pulsar.

I am man who wrote on rocks with clay, 

Who sucked color from berries and 

Made spears from stone.

If god is there, and if he’s always been,

Then he hasn’t blinked in the age of humans. 

We haven’t scraped out a measly second of his time. 

Our little speck of dust, cozy and warm, gently and discreetly

Rests in the habitable zone of 

Our G2V main sequence yellow-white dwarf star.

Some say we’re a first in our little universe. 

Many scientists think aliens 

Haven’t reached us yet because 

The conditions for life are so fragile and 

Brief that no species could live long enough to 

Engage in interstellar travel.

Tomorrow, gamma rays could burst our radio to flames or

An asteroid could hit the earth with enough force to 

Break our orbit, like crumpling up a wedding ring, 

And our planet would jet off into space alone. 

And as we drifted, we would get so cold. 

Prophets would tell us that it’s time. 

Biblical fire came as a rock from space,

And god would save the righteous from His icy breath.

Every night us sinners would add another blanket to our beds,

Huddle under covers, release hot, sticky breath to trap it

In the sheets. 

I wonder when it’d get too cold to move--

When every shift and struggle took our energy, 

The sacred, scarce fuel we had left to keep our bodies churning.

If god is there, and if he’s always been, 

He won’t notice that he’s squashed us 

Until our lights stop flickering. 

He’ll pluck our frozen marble from the sky, 

Turn it over and examine it in his palm,

And weep, because he let another 

planet of believers beg, plead,

And freeze--

Without ever knowing why.