We are alone on this stage in a vast cosmic arena

Think of all of the rivers of blood spilled by the generals and emperors

So that in glory and triumph they could become momentary masters of a dot

Think of the endless men fighting and dying for a God they’re not sure exists

War and famine at what price?

War and famine at what price?

We tell ourselves what we're doing is right

But we're so fucking wrong

So fucking wrong

How frequent our misunderstandings

How eager we are to kill

How frequent our misunderstandings

How eager we are to kill

Look back at the pale blue dot

And try to convince yourself God created the universe

For a mote of dust

Suspended in a sunbeam

Fuck

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves