A Drifting Bottle
Floating
Floating beyond our sight
Floating past mountains of its kind
Floating to its resting place in a vast plane of blue
Where it will never be found again
And soon
Hundreds of millions of thousands
Will follow
For the same reason
Which we refuse to consider would ever be an option
Floating away
To the wasteland too far to see
Too far to care
Until the day it towers over us
One drifting bottle at a time