It is such that moments come and go,
beings birthed and swept away by death.
The stars that shine down on us brilliantly,
expired eons ago.
In a world of such impermanence,
we cling to things both tangible and not.
In our futile resistance,
we build machines and new realities
to counter the brevity that is our lives.
We yearn for eternal youth,
and dream of seeing our grandchildren's grandchildren.
Our lost souls at terms with the impermanence of life,
whilst our egos seek asylum in theories and hypotheticals
of what could and should be in strife.
The future yields what the past holds,
but the present is worth its weight in gold.