If loss could be counted in days,
And absence measured in Time,
The tyranny of memories would say,
Time is an impossible rhyme.
For what has gone has past,
What is here cannot stay,
What is to come will not last.
Such is Time’s protean ballet.
So never does Time stand still,
Lest past be present congealed.
But only in the mind is this real,
For even the heart will be sealed.
When future and past do meet,
Impostors the present does greet,
For a brief interlude which is meant,
Both transient and eternal to be.
So this is the lesson about Time,
It is the most impossible rhyme.
As a rich man a pauper is made,
By Time’s eternal sovereign shade.
Obs: This is an illustrated poem with accompanying music. The pictures represent the the "tyranny of memories" mentioned in the poem. The reader is meant to click on each picture in the numbered order and listen to the associated song listed in the comments section. Doing so tells a story.This is the collaboration of poetry, music and photography. Different art forms should not be engulfed in fraticidal wars.