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I see the advancement, with hands working their magic. Knowledge put to good used, to saved a life from dying. And how we have taken their trusted hands to be professional. I would know then, when I come out alive.
They know their work is only a temporary thing.
Stemming the tide that erodes all beaches
For possibly a day, a week, at best a few years.
But they don't care.
They are artists who build dams against the waters
And those who sit upon them
Relax upon the walls
Enjoying the sun that should have been
Beating down upon their graves
And laugh and smile a Cheshire cat smile
Even as they fade away.