Memories crawl and never age,
like a sacred child who obstructs fate...
...but in our looking glass, we see every change;
just because the dye is cast,
doesn't mean we, should be Dorian Gray.
Time is a sleeping beast we woke from hibernation and silence;
It is the starving feat that chases us with persistent violence!
We never have a chance to stop and breathe...
Love is tossed like a butterfly in and out of a paradox,
like elapsed time breaking out of its allotted cage.
Life finds a way to transcend and escape,
like a sacred child who defeats death and petrifies fate.