The sigh of a skyscraper, 

born of the loneliness

of altitude, descends 

as a winter's breath 

upon the faces 

of finitude, mirrored

in every failed attempt

to conceal contempt

for impermanence; and 

the more forcible

the effort and impressive 

the result, the more 

fragility and aversion

are revealed in mortar

and in glass: our distaste 

for an inevitable demise

designed, though 

not out of malice, 

by none other than

entropy, the price, 

if you will, of being.