Ephemeral
Ephemeral is what we are,Like footprints in the sands.
We leave no everlasting marks
With feeble mortal hands.
Perhaps bronze baby shoes survive,
Perhaps our wedding rings.
But artifacts are all they are,
Mere shadows of our beings.
Like raindrops in a summer rain
Our lives are just free fall,
And where we end, the mark we leave
Is lost within the squall.
But two drops will leave twice the mark
And ten drops more than that.
And so beneath the falling rains
The mountains are worn flat.
And though our part in it is small,
There is, it seems, a plan
Wherein the universe itself
Is shaped by acts of man.
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