the sun sets, the sun rises

the loss of observer after observer

the stream is both constant and never the same,

we humans imagine the world will end when we do,

for it’s hard to imagine the roach, the squirrel, the tree,

as protagonist in a new world with bacteria and viruses

still the bulk of life-forms,

the sun of each of our lives sets,

and the sun will still rise when we are not here to see it,

I feel the absence of those who have gone before,

and it almost troubles me that the world doesn’t seem to care,

the stream still flows 

despite its loss of observer after observer. 

by Henry H. Walker

November 25, ’15