Our bodies' carbon, oxygen derives
From hearts of stars, extinguished into dust
Life resurrects these molecules, and strives
For meaning, ere death follows, as it must.
The lifeless gardening of impact rocks
Makes dust of stones and boulders on the Moon.
Inevitable crumbling, by the clocks
Chonometrize the sands of time, so soon
The robot eyes, which scan the moon for heat
Will see long-dead ejecta cooling fast
But when time's millstone's work is incomplete
The radiating warmth of rock will last.
While entropy will
not release its hold
Observing it lets
history unfold
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