Perhaps we human beings are little more than the thoughts and dreams of Earth.
Like all thoughts, we think our existence and our agency as the primary importance.
Sure, we can mingle with other thoughts, change and evolve into something a little bigger or grander.
But then, like a thought in the head, or a dream in the night, it ends, whether by eclipse or by cataclysm.
What if we are simply dreams of Earth?
Brief like shooting stars.
Ephemeral as auroras.
And being Earth, Earth dreams and thinks with so much more complexity and grandeur and age—
a temporal narrative that unfolds and changes where aeons span her heartbeats.
Is Earth obsessed with her latest thinks?
Do we, these infant ideas which she has only just now considered,