We live as creatures who create
That’s part of what defines us
We are always building something
Like small monuments to prove that we’re alive

So we compose our words and pictures
Scribe our souls in kids, or software
Make commotions, nations, love
Each obelisk will someday pass away

Tonight I’m finding solace in
A truth I heard from a machine
Who lived inside a myth. He said:
A thing’s not beautiful because it lasts