Time seems frozen.
I live a life of routines,
aging,
alive,yet slowly turning to dust.

In this halted moment,
no animals wander,
no decay occurs,
only wind scattering ashes,
ashes of my fading flesh.

How I wish time could pause,
allowing a single act,
a single feeling,
to repeat a thousand, ten thousand times,
awaiting oblivion’s gentle aging.