The rise of man is endless. Be in hope.
All stars are gathered in his horoscope.
The brute man of the planet, he will pass,
Blown out like forms of vapor on a glass.
And from this quaking pulp of life will rise
The superman, child of the higher skies.
Immortal, he will break the ancient bars,
Laugh and reach out his hands among the stars.
—Edwin Markham.