A token of loss.

The fact that a trip can't last makes the illusion cruel.
And yet, you take it.
Who wouldn't choose that over this?
And yet, the thinking itself reached an end, dwindled.
You can't return
without leaving part of yourself in the site dwelled.

You find yourself at the edge of oblivion.
The tacit rapture. Tzion. Nirvana.
The heaven that makes you up.
The souvenir photo shows you
as you've never been yourself there.

You weren't even here.