Hey, you out there!
You of whatever shape, whatever size,
With something that takes the place of hands and eyes,
Not hands and eyes at all—hey, you out there,
Are you looking for me?
Do you climb your highest hill and search the skies
For a hint that somebody somewhere lives and moves
And thinks brave thoughts and dies?
Do you shout at night
Through the infinite loneliness?
Well, here I am, at the edge of the Milky Way,
Groping among the stars and shouting too.