Like a rolling wave. Generation after generation marching. Marching to oblivion. Still they come. Conveyor belt of humanity, inexorably crashing on earthen shore. Each drop irrelevant, yet part of larger whole. Each drop lost in time, yet played its role. Each had its time. Its time in the light. Then in a blink, each succumbed. Forfeiting to inevitability, settling into the textured substrate of history. Where it all goes? They’ll never know. Such is their lot in reality.