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To make a long, long story terse,
Be it blessing, be it curse.
The Lord designed the universe
With built in obsolescence.

Each twinkling little star and sun
Enjoys its own atomic run,
Exploding when its time is done
With cosmic incandescence.

Astronomers predict someday
Our own sun will blaze away;
They'll be a glorious display
Of sunburst helium masses.

Our little planet earth below
Will join the pyrotechnic show,
With blazing hydrogen aglow
And thermonuclear gasses.

Thank God this great combustion day
Is several billion years away.
So as philosophers all say
Why fret, why fume, why worry?

A jillion moons will wane and wax
Sit down, make out your income tax.
Enjoy your life, be calm, relax,
For God is in no hurry.

But, oh, my friends, I have a hunch
Mankind might beat God to the punch.

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