eternity

To whisper sweet nothings would fall into the vein of simplicity,
and grasping at a singular moment in your embrace would be a practice in futility.
The taste of rain and the scent of ocean air is a stroke in the painting,
a human life a speck spent laughing or lamenting.
There's never a second to spare in an existence bound by time,
yet here we are lavishing our minds with riddle and rhyme.
Our words trail kisses over the scars left on us by violence or silence,
assuring us that the flow of night and day will never lose poetic importance.
Infinite is not a world that can rightfully applied to a human life,
not when we battle such things as disease and strife.
Yet the fact that even after death our ideas remain kicking,
is irrefutable evidence that living is not breathing but feeling and thinking.
Even as we age and the edges of our memories begin to turn a pale gray,
our connection to yesterday and today will never fade away.
There is no elixir of youth or a guard against physical decay,
instead we can become endless and we may rid ourselves of fear and dismay.
The ingredient is not happiness or perfection but of a much greater rarity;
It is our love that lets us revel in eternity.