In our world we start a superstar,
Of importance, little doubt.
Our acolytes near and never too far,
To respond to every shout.

This way our sense of self is set,
And all as Peacocks show our worth.
But soon everyone we've as such met,
Sees not humility, just its dearth.

And as we've aged and realised,
This puffed up sense just isn't true.
That our ego is just oversized,
With little respect for all but you.

Then we ease into life's back seat,
And let new superstars take the floor.
Realise we're anything but replete,
Try show our arrogance no more.

It's at this point we can see it's span,
Our existence, where it sits.
Part played in life's evolving plan,
Wherein our contribution fits.

From this perspective we seem so small,
A smallness larger than before.
As if we've played little part at all,
Which at the time seemed so much more.

For we're a mote in a world of endless dust,
And each significant, we are not.
Time viewed from space we're a moment's gust,
And by life's end, just a little grey dot.