Infiinitesimal Poem by David Whalen

Our doom is but a stone's throw away
In the cosmic games
That the Gods like to play

each streak of light at night
has the potential to end
civilization as we know it

The very fact that we're so small
Just an infinitesimal little ball
Is what gives us any chance at all

And the sobering thought to realize
Is There's no limit on great or small
There is truly no such thing as size

And death is no more
than the opening of a door
newly lifting lids of new born eyes

There is no such thing
as purpose or plan
in the wondrously random

Nonsensical, infinitesimal,
Hugely hilarious...sad and dismal
Unlikely universe of man