Feeling Misanthropic

[rejectomorph]

Back to looking at the sky. It's very reliable, the night sky, remaining much the same even when I can't see it because it is clouded. No clouds tonight, of course. Tonight it was perfectly clear once again. Watching the sparkling dots, I found myself wondering how many delightfully uninhabited planets might exist out there, or how many fortunate worlds there might be on which the cleverest species was about as clever as, say, a cat. Oh, happy, humanless orbs! Once, earth existed in that blessed state. Perhaps it will again, someday. Then, perhaps, it will be filled with un-poached gorillas, and hordes of promiscuous bonobos swinging through the trees (I'd advise them to eschew the process of evolution.) The stars will then shine once again nameless through the pure air, and not be formed by any misguided thought into fictional constellations. It will be a lovely place, forever free of being judged as such but in unfulfillable anticipation, forever unavailable to my non-existent self. As I hear the first birds singing, I can almost imagine that I am standing on the unpolluted soil of that post-human world. At this moment, I believe that it is the most appealing image I can recall ever having experienced.