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To make a long, long story terse, |
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Be it blessing, be it curse. |
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The Lord designed the universe |
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With built in obsolescence. |
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Each twinkling little star and sun |
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Enjoys its own atomic run, |
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Exploding when its time is done |
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With cosmic incandescence. |
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Astronomers predict someday |
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Our own sun will blaze away; |
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They'll be a glorious display |
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Of sunburst helium masses. |
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Our little planet earth below |
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Will join the pyrotechnic show, |
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With blazing hydrogen aglow |
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And thermonuclear gasses. |
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Thank God this great combustion day |
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Is several billion years away. |
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So as philosophers all say |
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Why fret, why fume, why worry? |
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A jillion moons will wane and wax |
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Sit down, make out your income tax. |
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Enjoy your life, be calm, relax, |
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For God is in no hurry. |
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But, oh, my friends, I have a hunch |
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Mankind might beat God to the punch. |
