Frozen in time, the photograph
Tells a tale of faces framed forever;
Eyes and smiles trapped for eternity,
Attached to the vague traces of ageless faces.

We are such stuff as dreams are made on,
And the flash of happiness, or click of time
Fades to nothing; we live in a moment.
This is that moment, sound or silence; life’s transience.

Listen. Listen to your heart, old tattoo
Of existence, beating the same refrain over
And over again. We live, wait, mutter breaths
In this state of transience, filling the void eternal.

We can not read what is written in the wind, old temptress,
Ageless, both life and death, the first and final
Breath, chasing the intangible: the epilogue,
The epitaph, the eulogy. All three

Somewhere in the sand, waiting for the turbulent sea
To wash away the words that once expressed
A life. But words are too crude, too crass, too cruel
To survive the ebb and flow of time,

The tidal massacre of what was, what is, and
What will be. I am Neptune on the
Shore waging a war against space and time.
I am Narcissus, reflected

In a photograph, forever framed and forlorn.