Mortality (Poetry)

Beloved is life
Though we feel it slip through our grasp
Like sand or melting snow
Fleeting and running
Opportunities pass us by and go
To feel the anxiety of fleeting time
That is the prerogative of man
The apprehension of the inevitable death
That is the prerogative of man
No living thing is born without being consigned to death
And we are fortunate
How must existence be for the deathless ones?
Watching as universes arise and pass away
Come into existence and out of it
Do they tire?
Do they ever sleep?
When might they rest?
Immortality is desirable to the mortal
But I'm fairly certain
That mortality is desirable to the Immortal
Perhaps not completely
But it must be hard to know that you'll run
Forever