Hear and see the author read this poem at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cs69zAIoeR0&feature=channel_page
Galactic Evolution
Strange species will walk on the streets of tomorrow;
Perhaps they'll be as uncivil as we:
Bombarding the earth with the seeds of our sorrow;
Leaving behind only piles of debris.
A day has no length while exists a forever.
All is a moment on such a grand scale.
It's always uncertain, the things time will sever.
None have survived life to send back the tale.
The metes* of the heavens are bound for extinction.
Friction of time will erode them away.
While yet they can serve, may they serve with distinction;
Nothing will ever exceed their display.
While still the wind whispers and sends its caresses;
Still stands the stone until ground into sands.
The secrets of time that the earth now confesses:
Hidden in sandstone in multi-hued bands.
From: Third Book from the Sun Copyright 2009 © James Walter Orr
Metes is a method of defining an irregularly shaped space.
Since matter creates its own space, and matter appears to be
irregularly spaced in space, I chose that method of measurement
to define my intentions in the third verse.