The scale of these things is so often misleading.
The story’s much bigger than the words you are reading.

Objects in mirrors may soon disappear
But the problem gets larger as the subject gets near.

From the air they seem tiny, bobbing heads in the water,
Great sperm whales sleep upright, awaiting their slaughter.

At the hands of grown men in their tiny toy tankers,
That once sailed in their bathtubs, using bubbles for anchors

In the grand scheme of physics’ mathematics ballet,
Our big world‘s a needle in the infinite hay.

Run the sand through your fingers as you lay by the ocean,
And nod drugged by the sea’s narcotic wave motion.

Are we more than electrons and protons bound tightly together?
Just pull them apart and the answers forever.

The microscope’s eye reveals realms of the hidden,
Lost crystalline worlds, where your gaze is forbidden.

So consider your place and remember the scale
Of these problems and pleasures, of the trials and travails.

In the grand scheme they’re fleeting, so don’t hold on to pain
Let it pass like dead leaves carried off by the rain.

Back down onto the beach, onward through to the sea
Shake it off like a dog, like a man, like a flea.

The weight of these things is so often misleading.
Like the pixels or ink on this page that you’re reading.

From nothing comes something and then nothing again,
We were small and grew bigger, back to little and then,

Back to nothing or something or nothing again...