Deep Time

Time counts, and keeps counting. Swiftly fly the years.
People, empires, species, come and go.
Continents drown, rise, dry out, drown again. Rinse, repeat.
The sun grows old and ill,
the great-grandcopies of our children’s children
play bingo in the last airdome,
waving their cilia, getting sillier.
Hell freezes over, the stars come right, the cows come home.
Your call has advanced in the queue
and will be answered, yea I say unto you,
by the next available service consultant.