Drown.
It happens a pace imperceptible,
It is lost only at the moment it was perceived the
The aqua alta
Carved out an embayment in my heart
No rivers made room for the sea,
Tidal floods by the tumbling silver moonlight, sweeps in the silky waters as an insidious creeping, pending doom inexorably sweeps over,
The rise is slow, the water is murky,
Oh to be like a Venetian! Slough off the inconvenience of death,
Shall I look to the past as contretemps?
Shall I rearrange fate with a retrospective perspective?
Shall I reinterpret your fait accompli?
And the portent is grim—eustasy is is certain
And the weight of the life giving substance— extinguishes life.
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