Riff On Blackbird's Causality Poem by David McLansky

Restless for the face of God,
Self-conscious of our rise from sod;
Life cannot be so cold, perverse,
Mere pond scum on the fractious earth;
Life cannot be so demeaning
That we awake without meaning;
We hear the echo of our thoughts
Back from space probes we have wrought;
An empty ping that we've contrived
In search of someone else alive;
In the bubble universe
That inflates without reverse,
As all the blazing stars burn out,
We're left in darkness with our doubts?