The Portrait of A Fading Hour

Time treads upon the petals of the rose,

With heavy steps that crush the scarlet bloom;

He steals the fire where the ruby glows,

And weaves our days upon a silent loom.

Cold Chronos counts the coins of grey and gold,

Until the heart is weary, and is old.

Why weep for yesterdays that are but dust?

Or fear the tomorrow’s veil of mystery?

The sword of Memory begins to rust,

The future is a ship upon the sea—

A ghost that sails but never reaches shore,

A dream of wealth that makes the spirit poor.

But Kairos comes with vine-leaves in his hair,

To stop the sun within the azure sky;

One perfect hour is all that we may share,

Before the beauty of the world must die.

To hold the sunset in a cup of wine,

And make a mortal moment feel divine.

So seize the diamond instant while it gleams,

For youth is fleeing on a silver wing;

Awake, my soul, from past and future dreams,

And drink the nectar that the seconds bring.

For time is cruel, but Art can make him bow,

If we dare to worship at the now.