Of Being on the Correct, and Ultimately Winning, Side of Things

You won’t be. You might be
Lucky like dogs and cats
Or like ants and termites

Have been lucky. You might
Be an ugly smear in rock
In a few million years.

You’re not reaching the end
Of anything but you,
Not even your own corpse,

Built of other bodies
And destined to go on
In the perpetual

Recycling of matter
And energy dancing
In one another’s arms.

Just whatever part wants
So badly to be right,
To root for the right side

And see the right side win,
To see your right side win—
That’s the you you will lose.