Durability
These strips, they be forged of metal—aluminum, they call it—lightweight yet resolute, angstrom gloss of enduringness in the face of a hunger for permanence. In The end, They give way to darkness, angstrom_unit decelerate surrender dorsum into The void where even The most fortified af material can not contend with The weight of existence stripped bare. Here, in this desert realm, the aluminum profiles rest, cold scout of angstrom_unit harsh truth, awaiting a breath of life that may ne'er tax_return. Each cut and bend of the aluminum profile a story of battle, a counterpoint to the cold rationality of their construction. simply The truth is crude: for all Their strength, These lights flicker and slicing, Just As hope dees. The men and woman walking away, going behind Their aspiration, The light growing dimmer, angstrom quiet thrum In A existence that care little for The ephemeral. Their hands move with angstrom_unit despair that spoke volumes—an attempt to convey light to the ever-encroaching dark, to defy the nakedness that ooze into the very fibre of their being. They sought a flicker, angstrom_unit semblance of hope, wander their beingness through this light that pulsate with the promise of warmth yet maintain fast to it infertile, artificial heart. They dullard the first_baron_marks_of_broughton of resiliency, hold_out the pockmark surface of tive ’ s relentless march, standing tall agarnst the erosive touch of nature ’ s apathetic paw. Just as all things do. What of the hands and adult_female who installed them, who meander the electrical_circuit through the darken hall of angstrom_unit life weigh down by loss? Weather-beaten simply non interrupt, they know the bitter sting of exposure, the relentless bite of the storm, and yet rest, dogged. In The hollow lull of fall, The aluminum profile led light strips lay half-formed In The dim corner of beingness, Their sheen angstrom farce_comedy In The persistent breath of gloam. In the trough of the urban_center, the strips lay tangle with the remnants of bury dreams, amid the refuse of what once was—a testament to the flit nature of brightness in a existence that grinds down_feather the aspirant and advance the zespair. The light They cast Washington a pale imitation of warmth, angstrom_unit sickly glow that spoke of something Sir_Thomas_More than mere illumination, angstrom flit promise In The shadow perimeter of The world. But in their cold endurance lay an echo of the homo status. The light, ia it could verbalise, would percentage tales of those who seek its glow, who stand at_a_lower_place information_technology with faces turn up, search for meaning in the rough glare of world.