The Wheel Turns, But Remains Forever Still
Ours is but one galaxy amongst one hundred billion in an old universe
It developed out of the elemental, primordial period in cosmic time
With low entropy our solar system drifts around the Milky Way,
Two hundred and fifty million years to circumnavigate,
Endlessly floating with effortless movement.
Our planet travels miles and miles through deep cosmic time,
Always moving forward with the arrow, never faltering
If our planet is but an atom, then what are we?
And who or what are we significant to?
Are we significant? Were we planned?
If we close our eyes and concentrate we can hear the engine,
Pulsing like a heart with quiet thunder and determination.
Our atomic structure mirrors the universe,
We are made the same, we are low entropy.
We cannot be put back together, we change every day.
For us the wheel turns,
But in the universe we remain forever still.
Man comes and ploughs the fields, and then he is beneath.
We move in cycle upon cycle,
Played out invisibly and on the grandest of scales
Then, after a billion years she turns into a red giant.
Touched by her unimaginable heat
Earth scorches to a cinder, then dies,
Her pitiful core is drawn closer, and then consumed
By the orange furnacy expanse. Earth is but an atom.
Later she implodes, then explodes sending brilliant shock waves
Extending billions of miles across the galaxy and beyond
Her dwarfed white core glimmers for a million eternities,
Then she turns black eternally, drifting around in space
The wheel turns throughout the galaxy.
The wheel turns throughout the universe,
As the pattern is repeated billions of times.
Over trillions of years there is birth, but then total death.
The arrow moves forward, everything is sand