How strange and wonderful if our home, our earth,
With its swirling vaporous atmosphere,
Its flowing and frozen climbing creatures,
The croaking things with wings that hang on rocks
And soar through fog, the furry grass, the scaly seas
How utterly rich and wild.
Yet some among us have the nerve,
The insolence, the brass, the gall to whine
About the limitations or our earthbound fate
And yearn for some more perfect world beyond the sky
We are none of us good enough
For the world we have.
Edward Abbey
