We are hieroglyphics.
We do our job. We do the best we can. We do what we can in the whole scheme of things. In every manner we are charged with giving meaning to things, all sorts of things, so many things, and indeed everything. With etching, engraving, drawing, printing, typing and writing. We are scribbled in notebooks, traced with flowing ink, embossed on tablets, branded on cattle, stamped on plastic tiles, carved on trees and sprayed on walls.
Sometimes large, sometimes small, indoors, outdoors, in every form, in every language, in every country, on monuments, record covers, cereal packets and photos. We fill the tiny labels on jars and bottles, state the rules on highways, we proclaim values on price tags, we are the grooves of remembrance in cemeteries. We say so much; when to use by, what the weight, what the colour, what the flavour, what the size. We mark pyramids, milestones and obelisks.
Even when chipped into rock and stone, we take on an unavoidable attribute.
Even then, we are impermanent.