Use lengths of wood,
yards of cement,
weld girders all together.

Slabs of carved stone,
cover old bones,
all bound with linen and leather.

From pictures found
on walls of caves,
camera’d in Kodak wonder.

Mankind’s events
are vainly saved,
recording endless blunder.

There’s not one thing
that can be made
that will last forever.

Paint it, chrome it
even cyro’d cold,
ends an absurd endeavor.

From dust we came
and shall return,
cycle of life we follow.

We are just mist
found in the air;
“Here today, gone tomorrow.”

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards