Planned Obsolescence

I am a small thing
in a big world
in an even bigger universe.

My flesh is not as durable
as stone, not even my teeth
or bones. My mind

is an infinite thing housed
in a finite container with
an expiration date T.B.D.

I am composed primarily
of water, though, I do not
evaporate on a hot day.

My hands are strong
but they are made of many
fragile bones and tendons-

the same thing can be said
of my feet. My skin covers
me whole, though, it is easy

to pierce or cut. My eyes
reveal a palette of sights
that delight and disgust me,

show me proof of my
insignificance. My ears
inundate me with a constantly

shifting score composed
for every known and unknown
instrument and creature.

My tongue serves as an advance
scout for my stomach
before in put is broken into

components of use and waste.
My hardware has peaked
and will only age as newer

models are released every day.
In time, if I am lucky, I will
become obsolete and tended

to by younger models of our
kind. This does not sadden me.
Nature did not intend this.

We are not built to last.
How horrible a thing
it would be if we were.