Forever is a syndrome
Of little packages of features
They say become reality-prone
Affection is the primal primer
That makes the infinity thread
Kindle at the right speed, slow in effacement
Time, a factorial; claustrophilia, the essence
And through the magnifying glass
Of trust, you tread on a keyhole holding
A telescopic lens to longevity, where eternity
Has all the hallmarks of an ocular disease
Ophthalmologists call it hyperopia.
Common folk call it love.