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.
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