No one’s meant to last forever
And history personified
Is no exception
Uncle H thinks of how dying
Is an opportunity of sorts
But it never comes
Dinky humans keep doing shit
So he sticks around
And keeps awake
It would be alright
If only the endless juvenilia
Of poets would stop—
T.S. Eliot
Notes that Sartre
Rhymes with fart
Planet of the Blind 