Time III

The grains of sand

slip through my fingers.

At my feet,

a silent drift gathers ~

spilling over,

spilling fragments of memory.

Why didn't I see it

forming beneath me?

Or did they only seem slower then,

until you found me in a dream ~

And even you turned to sand in the end.

There was no way to hold you.

You slipped away,

leaving a void,

even in my dreams.

These grains carry the weight of loss,

the hollow weight of quiet emptiness.

Perhaps this is time's only mercy ~

a kind of poetic justice:

it slips by in a single glance,

leaving no room for calculation or regret,

only the soft, soft whisper of farewell.

The Architecture of Illusion

I chose not to add emotional language or technical analysis,

leaving the photograph open to interpretation.

This moment was captured to allow space for 

interpretation and reflection from the viewer.

Personal Interpretations:

The illusion of social containment.

The illusion that preserves society's status quo.

The illusion that feeds the machine.

The illusion that willingly enslaves us.

The illusion that never stops giving.