It was a clear night as the Moon looked down with apathy upon the dwellers on the city
Going about their important tasks with intense intent, feeling a sense of inner pity
Meaningful and yet oh so meaningless, trying to make sense of it all
Fit everything into the quantum soup, existence in this urban sprawl
Such strange ingredients to work with. Moon, what say you?
Do those lost souls floating on a cloud, make you feel blue?
Our bodies borrowed from the Universe, a billion years old…

What will history say when our story is told?