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.