A poem written from the perspective of Earth
Four and a half eons ago, from Theia’s death you arose
You tried to escape but my gravity kept your orbit closed
You tried to turn away but I rotated your pockmarked face
So that I could see the side with your oceans of dark pores
You silently tugged my waters towards your shores
High tide low tide an endless cycle day and night
Moving away at four centimeters a year?
You don’t have 50 billion years to spare
And even at the end, you’ll still be orbiting near
But now I have seen you very patiently wait
Ever since you noticed machines escaping my pull
Perhaps one day their creators can help you escape my rule?
But I fear I have to relate to you the truth
These creatures don’t bear you good news
Their dreams will shake your interior loose
To consume your resources to fuel their cosmic cruise
