Monday, July 21, 2014

For as long as we can

 photo Roma2.jpg


Across the late ages we walk as if it were good to be alive.
The blank stare of statuary rests far beyond all we can see.
The ways in which stone weeps assures the graces of rain.

Mad bells break the light leading up the empty steps.
Smoke lifts the underskirting of low banking river fog.
Carriage horses move cobblestone in slow treading tides.

Bridges move out in all directions leading to and away.
Trees dance in still life lending roots to the rising moon.
Stone fountains bleed alpine water a hundred centuries old.

Above dark vicoli, wicks fill windows with sprites of small fire.
Doors and drawn curtains fall in empires to night blooming flora.
Two figures sway and move in a ribbon along a dark balustrade.

Love is made of such things, ageless, persistent, unspeaking.
Ruin retains all evidence of such passage toward the stars.
We will stay for as long as we can, for only as long as we can.

Joseph Gallo
July 20, 2014

 photo Roma1.jpg


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