It is true of many things. From arts to love. This may sound corny for the Latino audience, but this poems made me think of that, so here it goes. A Guatemalan singer and composer, Ricardo Arjona, popularized a song that said

Si me dices que sí, dejaré de luchar y me volveré un idiota.
Mejor dime que no, y dame ese sí como un cuanta gotas.
Dime que no, pensando en un sí, y déjame lo otro a mí
Que si se me pone fácil, el amor se hace frágil y uno para de luchar.

(If you tell me yes, I'll stop fighting and become an idiot.
Better say no, and give me that yes like a dropper.
Tell me no, while thinking of a yes, and let me do the rest.
Because if it gets easy, loves grows fragile and one stops fighting.)

I find your "Dis-facility" arresting. My 14-year-old step-daughter is a musician and i remember seeing her struggling with some violin pieces day after day, for what seemed to me like a drilling eternity, and yet, her sense of determination and satisfaction knowing that her piece would ensemble and fit a whole that people would appreciate and admire.
Your poem has some of that orchestral architecture, especially with the allusions to brass and strings resonating .
I could not help perceiving a certain contradiction, though, in this matters of insistence on capturing the "evanescence evasions" that can represent human existence and legacy.
Like the pictures that accompany the poem, the erosive power of the waves slowly but steadily reveal marvels but also scary scars.
To what extent is it imperative to obsess ourselves with leaving posterity something they should marvel about?
At what cost?