I sat and gazed across the surging sea,
And watched the waves break slowly to and fro,
And thought, when we have ceased to be
This ocean will remain. But is it so?
It may not be - time's steady, tireless hand
Will work unceasingly to empty it at last;
These watery depths will one day be dry land,
Just as they were in some far distant past.
When that day comes will any life remain
To look upon the peaks eons have wrought,?
Or will a hotter sun shine on a plain
Devoid of life? A most unpleasant thought.
Our planet's fate is one that we may choose.
The game is our to win - or ours to lose!
Paul Healy writes to tell us that he has just got "another orrery" from England, horizontal this time (his first was vertical). And no, it doesn't sing and eat seeds but it does have a gold-plated Earth and silver Moon, which circles its little Sun in 365.5 days real time! Digital clocks, the wonder of our age, are trash by comparison.
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