The Stamp of Reality

a poem by Prashanth Sriram

Isn’t it ironic,
That it takes hours of work
To build a house of cards,
But all it takes to bring it down
Is a small gust of wind.

Isn’t it ironic,
That after years of hard work
To build up a reputation,
All it takes is one mistake
To besmirch your name forever.

Isn’t it ironic,
That it takes ages to build a city,
But one violent gesture
From Mother Nature
Can reduce it all to nothing.

The ultimate stamp of reality
That puts us in our place
Is that everything is ephemeral;
Still, the illusion of permanence
Is what keeps us going.