Give me the strength to
submit to forever,
as elusive as those pillars
at the far edge of the photograph,
perculating in the haze of the setting sun,
the distant horizon.
Forever is barely conscious, a whisper.
It circles in wait and we ignore it,
but that is where all ends must meet,
all decay will foster regeneration,
there,
at the edge of that faded photograph,
that evening in Venice.