We now seem to occupy an unusual niche in the long history of this universe, living beyond the early, hot era, yet well before the accelerating expansion will isolate galaxies from each other, then stars, and finally may wrench apart all of matter as space-time stretches ever-faster. Time seems then like a judge, not a mere clock.
I repeat Isaac Watts' words from an earlier note, but this time finishing the verse:
TIME, LIKE AN EVER-ROLLING STREAM, BEARS ALL ITS SONS AWAY;
THEY FLY, FORGOTTEN, AS A DREAM DIES AT THE OPENING DAY.
