The noosphere is yet young and fragile. And it requires our constant care, for in caring for the noosphere, we care for ourselves.
In the family of species, Homo sapiens has long tried to claim some exclusive privilege or character; as if the eternal cosmic cycle was merely a tedious prelude to our boisterous introduction.
But consider: Maybe our species is but the first species—in this corner of the cosmos anyway—to be able to express the noosphere. That our sole privilege as a species is that we were the first to understand how and why we came into being. And what we were but a small part of. And what we were capable of creating.
We are creating the noosphere: our thoughts and our dreams give it life. And it needs our care, as if it were our child. And our planet needs our care, as if it were our mother.
Life cares for itself; and all life cares for its children.