Wine Glasses Are Forever

Time mocks me with every tick
of its outstretched and ageless hands
Nagging the truth of mortality
shorter than an instant
and yet gone forever

Life becomes a terminal disease
because all specimens are waiting to die
extracting every breath because it might
very well be our last

Existing only as a dot
a smudge on the picture of forever
paraded by the hundreds of smudges
all just dust in the wind