There you are – standing tiny beneath the colossal Redwoods. Gazing skyward. Lost in the perspective as to your significance in the world. You may live to be 70, 80, or even 100. A shooting star. An insignificant spark in the eons of time. Learning and accepting the universe does not revolve around you. That there are 100 thousand MILLION stars in the Milky Way alone. And that there are millions upon millions of other galaxies, with their own suns, planets, and life(?)
We may never know, never get to see, never contact the universe. So we wonder. Imagine. Create sci-fi. Live and prosper in our own little worlds. Dredging through daily life. The mundane. Sensing time slipping away. Asking, “Why am I here?” “For what purpose?” Answers elusive, if not nonexistent. And knowing, without fail, we will be forgotten. No mark trenched deep enough to last forever.
And yet we struggle on. Our will to live paramount. Hoping we realize our standing. Our importance. And come to terms with our limitations.
For only in awe will we acquire the humbleness to know our place in the world.