Ephemeral Reflections
the clock ticks but are its hands real or merely shadows stitched onto a dial spinning the tale of an untold myth she wore spectacles reflecting the world's chaos in serene irony
what is it to flee a moment grasping at existence like sand through fingers dissolving into memories of a dream last night the stars sang a melody forgotten in the light of day
a whisper echoes through the ages
do the clouds hold secrets?
time is a paradox, a question asked in silence