Often confusing

Blind.

Our greatest monuments are the desert dunes.
The bones of our fathers will make them true.
And when all has crumbled the ash will sing,
Of us and our feats, so small and trim.
Of all our knowledge so vain and small,
Of the child who starved, knowing just the fall,
Their legacy, a pair of denim, small.
They knew so little, just the needle they held,
And yet knew so much more than we comprehend.
We cannot see, beyond the sea,
An infinity blind to me.
Perhaps it's for our own sakes,
True power will only our soul take.
As the stars recede and the less we see,
Maybe the happier we will be.