the word itself is nothing formidable
three syllables: for-ev-er. a cretic in
metrical feet, and yet the images it creates
can be both daunting and incredible.
stretching out from this particular moment
to one that we can't even imagine, an infinity
away: for-ev-er. the possibilities of what can
occur start to form a lazy blur in my mind.
a sea of blues, greens, skin tones, places
people things. one image of a future forever away
comes forward from the obscurity, then scurries
back to the haze. did you see it? can you remind
me of the specifics, or was it as i remember;
a moment captured far in for-ev-er of
you (macron) and me (breve).
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