Permanent

Permanent, an oxymoron akin to the living dead,

drives our lives as surely as the rising sun.

As time takes its toll, we grow old tinkering

with ways to extend our days for ourselves

or the gizmos we are so gung-ho at crafting.

We all play the inane game of permanency.

The sages sang praises for the rock of ages and

another civilization outdid themselves with

the Pyramids which began crumbling even as the

last stone was being carefully honed in place and

continues to deteriorate in the permanent sun.

The idea of the pyramids outdid the woe begone

Hope that a chosen few could elope with forever.

That which can claim some permanency tends

to be ideas that please and ease the hardships

shared by all that walk or crawl, short or tall.