Abiotic To Burgeon And Languish
Betwixt the furrows of senescent hands, blemishes remain
etched to tell of myriad triumphs.
Monoliths stand elevated to bear testament of grandeur,
but, like flesh and all physical things, they will fade.
At dawn the greatest splendor prevails but for a moment
to emphasize that only change is everlasting.
When the hourglass is inverted and the wretched have
passed, will descendants peddle the burden of those
before them?
Time has witnessed copious hierarchies rise and fall;
adaptations of previous thoughts will continue to thrive
and perish.
In immutable flux this is an endless cycle, it's how we
are eternal.
