I try to think of the things

of which there will be no end

and it is actually hard

we can hardly think

of categories we can only

imagine

we are built to decay

everything does

and that which does not

like styrofoam

destroys

yet

there is a vague small thread

almost

impossible to grasp

that leads to a lofty

possibility

a goodness wrapped in joy

that

has

no

ending