Take my hand
as we walk along the patio
surrounded by clay
and fine china

As we look upon
those who are caged
eternally, timelessly
aging through
unbothered by the
deafening arms
of the clock as they
clap to meet.

Walk with me
through panels and
countless oil paintings


As we listen to the
songs of the violins
that cannot sing anymore,
tip-toeing onto
the sycamore tiles


Funny,
how fleeting
was considered
immortal


and only one
can differentiate


fleeting
from
timeless.


cause
fleeting,
are we
among the immortals;
we are just
passing through.