Poem #23

This globe, turning slowly in blackness,
host to life upon life,
but moving ever onward,
its cycle unaffected by any event upon its suface.
Its destiny seems to have been decided for it already.
Carry life upon it, as it pirouettes through a vaccuum,
admiring the view of its innumerable neighbors as it twirls.
It has probably witnessed the birth and death of countless stars.
I wonder if it misses them,
its brothers and sisters in space.

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