Easel of the Infinite
10. October 2024

On quantum easel, chaos flows,
Brush of time, where nothing slows.
Swirls of color, thoughts untold,
Mirror breaks, reflecting old.

From the furls of unknown threads,
Portraits whisper, shadows spread.
I call my own, but not alone,
In every stroke, a truth is shown.

Tym bends back, the past rewinds,
Yet forward marches, space unbinds.
Chaos paints with gravest care,
The universe, its silent prayer.

Each moment, captured, slips away,
Yet here I stand, each brushstroke stay.
In every swirl, a mystery,
In every glance, eternity.