This planet of ours
rolls so consistently
through its appointed rounds
we can easily forget
it is not itself
immortal
but will have an end date
long after our own.

When we realize
how little will likely be left
to remember us
on that day
we set upon it
tooth and nail, desperate
to make a permanent mark
of some sort.

Heh,
and really,
and oh please,
the earth responds.

By the time I’m old enough
to welcome my end
I will have smoothed you 
forever away.