We humans long for permanence in a world that is nothing but transitory

We grieve for what we’ve lost, even when we knew we would have it for but a day

We mourn the loss of our friends, our family, our youth, our home, our town, our country, knowing from an early age that none of these things are permanent

We curl up with the familiar, in food, in clothing, in music; we curse change in our feeble way, unable to stem the tide, attempting to shield ourselves in the illusion of the unchanging

Our world is perpetually vanishing, and so are we

This is what this life is

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