Classic Poem

Speaking as one world to another,
From finite toward the fabulous, I
Question my condition in survival,
Should such be destined when we die.

If Nature be indeed our mother,
(Neglectful parent though she seem)
What must remain on my arrival
From earth's anthropocentric dream?

How do you handle my dispersal—
Nameless, unlanguaged, and deminded?
Shall psyche thrive, no more purblinded?
Answer me that, O Universal.