I did recognize mortality
when in the moment,
across the room the world I lived inside of did maintain
a certain air of permanence
the sort that would stay static forever,
if we were to leave it alone,
only to gather dust,
to become an archiver’s treasure.
Yet I stood near the mantle,
wondered about the protective glass
and if ever it were to be shattered,
would the shards remain some distant remnant,
a new onlooker
might find the quiet reality of a time
when a renovation determined fate.