We sought to reach out and touch the stars,
Foolish enough to try and reach the heavens themselves,
To become masters of all in creation.
Who was to tell us that our ideals were flawed,
And that in our plight we would forget the beauty of our own world.

Who was to predict that our sun would one day rise for the last time?
Who was to tell that the reaction of four protons or hydrogen nuclei fused together to form one helium nucleus that brought us light and warmth,
Would produce a massive ionized eruption on the sun's surface,
That would consume our civilization in a corona of hellish, perennially radioactive fire.