All through history we've looked to the sky.
We kook up to the sky when we pray for rain,
We look up to the sky when we think of our departed loved ones
And how much we look forward to seeing them again;
When we talk of our hopes and dreams,
And when we think of heaven
Or watch the sun come up at the hopeful start of another day.
We shoot for the moon. We swing on stars.
No matter where we are, there always seems to be something else out there,
Somewhere else we can dream of out there in that sky.

But now, when I look up at the sky
All I see are satellites.
Thousands and thousands and thousands of satellites,
Flashing and blinking and wizzing around,
Streaming our telephone calls and video conferences,
Mapping the Earth with high resolution cameras,
Transmitting data about the weather and plate tectonics,
Enemy troop movements, solar flares
And climate changes.

Thousands and thousands of satellites in their orbits
Manuevering above and around and below each other,
Unfolding their solar panels and dish antennas,
Their orbits intertwining
Into webs so thick you cannot see the stars
Anymore.

Still, they shoot up more and more,
Rockets with payloads of supply satellites,
Telecommunications satellites,
Satellites on surveillance missions
And satellites sent up to do scientific experiments.

Somewhere out there, beyond the sky,
There might still be constellations,
Stars, moons, a zodiac,
A rapidly expanding universe.
Who knows? Maybe even a new heaven
And habitable planets.

But through the tangled orbits of all these robots
And machines that we've sent up there,
Fitted with nuclear power packs
And lithium batteries and solar panels,
The forest of antennas,
The myriad of shiny, metallic, manufactured surfaces,
You can't see anything at all.

No, you can't see anything at all.