Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could.

I returned to a childhood haunt where I’d buried treasure long, long ago. I found nothing. The landmarks I remembered were no longer there. It was the right piece of land, but no shrub, bush, or tree were where they used to be. Oh well, no real loss. The treasure was a tin can filled with nickels and pennies - not even to the brim.

No real loss, except for loss in the belief I could save treasure for later. I childishly thought stuff pretty much stood still. I didn’t understand that nothing in the world stands still.

All is transitory. We cannot lay-up treasure, or anything else.

That would probably drive us crazy if not for our well-honed ability to overlook reality.

“Well even if nothing lasts theoretically, mustn’t we still get on with getting and gaining”?

Yes, we must still get on with getting and gaining. What else can we do, reality is not theoretical. All we get or gain will fall away.

Maybe what we gain will last, at least, for our lifetime. That does happen, though not reliably. Sensible people work hard and plan as best they can. Hard work and cautious planning will make for better odds, but better odds don’t guarantee better results. The only guarantee

Is, “This too, will pass away”.

In the shifting swirl of the flux we are as gnats in a hailstorm.

Some optimists’ believe humans capable of altering the world; our power so great we might even someday destroy the planet by accident. Uh-uh! Dream-on little man. Nothing made by man lasts long - not even the messes we make. All is local and temporary.

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

That’s from Shelley’s famous poem. It’s true today and true always. Pompous boasting

and mighty effort alike come to nothing in the end. Earthly treasure cannot be laid up.

Fame fades, and fortunes dissipate.

Enjoy what you have, now. Make plans for tomorrow, tentatively.

You’re not in charge of anything. Let it go.

That’s my plan.

By K. L. Shipley

Website: https://www.eclecticessays.com