synecdoche in poetry

here we are on an obscure earth
dimly lit under an obscure moon
with no supermen to save us
no gods to bail us out from
our extant monstrous hubris
to absolve us of responsibility
to ourselves in need or in deed

we get all the credit our successes, sure
but it leaves us without excuses
for our errors and abuses and
maybe a lack of credits
would be worth someone to clean this mess
up for us

after all there are
more glamorous places
with myths and legends
with heroes and gods
and shorter odds
for things working out the best
but no one seems impressed
that we got this far alone
on this obscure earth
with an obscure moon in
an otherwise empty sky

still everyone wants
a savior who can fly
and never ever die
it’s no wonder why