In the world of material objects, only death lasts.
Darling, trust me, I know. I have seen the wealthy fall from their pedestals; I have witnessed the mighty crash into the mud with a resounding thud. The oppressed have broken free from their chains time and time again; the weak have risen to the pinnacle of society.
There is only one thing that binds them all together: they have all met Father. He can be cold and uninviting, or warm and hospitable. He can take your hand slowly, or strike you down like a flash of lightning. But he comes to all regardless.
I know only death lasts. But dreams can also last forever.