"What do I have that makes you seek my friendship?"

Could that Prime Mover
Notice me
Me, so diminutive,
Among infinite beings
Of time and space?

Humbly, I feel myself unworthy
Of attracting its attention.

Does it need me?
This question echoes and overwhelms me.
I shall not interpose the ambition of a proud man.
"What do I have that makes you seek my friendship?"

Would the Prime Mover need
Hymns, praise, prayers,
My eulogies in particular,
Echoing in such enormous spaces?

How can I make the Prime Mover hear me?
And I, with such a little voice... I know nothing.
Happy is he who achieves or who hopes for such a thing.

Would the Creation be a preliminary
Transition, an insufficient handmaid?
Without place, without time, what is man?

Is the splendid material universe
Gradually transforming
Its energy into a vortex of spirit,
To end up as a chorus of ghosts
With the useless stars no longer needed?
And me at the end at a meeting of spectres?