clicking my ruby slippers.

From On Living, by Nazim Hikmet:

'This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
             and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet--
 I mean this, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
 in pitch-black space . . .
You must grieve for this right now
--you have to feel this sorrow now--
for the world must be loved this much
                             if you're going to say "I lived". . .'