To be Human

What does it mean to be human?
They asked themselves once
Long ago, and found
No answer, many answers,
and drowned
in more questions, all seeking
a sense of clarity
But this was a dusty place then,
with dusty things all around
Coherence was a rarity,
a luxury to grow into
And grow into it they did
spouting fire, spitting fear,
building love to the far frontier
In growing they forgot
the question
that once drove them onward
to the bounds of their cramped spaces,
out of dust and into space -
What does it mean to be human?

Look at them now,
gazing from the peaks they
thrashed and blasted and
gasped and clawed their way to.
They should sense it,
waiting
The long arm of Reason ready
to fan away the dust and,
finally,
really see the Universe
waiting,
arms outstretched to guide them through.
They don't see it, they don't look
They fan fires and shoot bullets and
dig their way down,
down the mountain they overtook.
Turn their back to the infinite
and huddle in the bounds of their bubbles
No longer wondering,
perhaps forgetting...

What should it mean to be human?
Not this.