I will persist, a cyst, embedded
In the muscle fibers of this fetid
Entity, and I will gape, as all my
Predecessors have, as what we
Thought would last forever rots
Away: the scribe upon the Nile's
Bank, the tribune seeing Rome
Aflame, the olive oil vendor in a stall
In downtown Istanbul, the petty Beijing
Functionary, anybody on the street as
London suffered through the blitz.
Surprise! Empires age and fade,
And ours, no more worth saving than
The others which appeared before,
Decays. One can't avoid its odor.
Even so, I make a home within it.
When it finally dies, I'll feast upon
Its carrion. I'm old.  I'll also perish soon.

Until I do, I'm sure I'll be okay.