But as I grow older and less full of myself, I'm finding what an inconsequential gnatfart I am in the Great Scheme of Things. I could die tomorrow and humanity will go chugging along its merry way. It'll continue junking up the earth, attempt a wild and crazy escape to Mars or something, die out by its own poisonous effluvium or blow itself up, thus ending the Rule of Mammals and ushering in The Age of Insects, who will use all our plastic and styrofoam and non-biodegradable radioactive waste as fuel for their little bug cars and build fantastic little bug cities and little bug kids will read about the giant prehistoric humans with awe and delight. Secular Ants will dig up our bones, Fundamentalist Bees will deny we ever existed, and Dragonflies will just chill cuz they're cool like that. Maybe they'll enshrine my memory and make me an honorary insect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a train of thought! I was very amused and yet what say, though seemingly mostly out of frustration also holds the grains of truth.