On a tiny planet hanging on to the edge of a galaxy
a million people drive a million cars
along a million tarmac paths.
The planet spins under mysterious forces that were
hypothesised by some scientists a lifetime ago,
hell bent on creating their own gods.
Seasons follow seasons until no season changes.
Children inherit the debts of their parents.
No parent is perfect & no child will change.
The tiny planet hanging on to the edge will slip,
or rather all the people will simply cease to exist,
and the galaxy will correct for any imbalance.
On a tiny planet hanging on to the edge of a galaxy
humans, a blip in the timeline of an infinite universe,
will fail to register any impact.
