Every second lives.
Every second lives on.
Even when you think,
When you feel it’s gone
Every slice of time,
Out there is alive.

What if we considered the passing of our present
As a non-evolving process in fact…
While we are supposed to revive the moment
Purely by recollection, through memories.
But what if the human conscience
Was simply unable to treat more
Than a small portion of chronology,
And we had mentally adapted our limitation
By counting seconds, minutes, hours, days,
As a « lost forever » mechanism… ?
When in truth,
At least theorical,
Time is a whole.
And every year, decade, or century,
Happens simultaneously.

As if by self-preservation,
We had invented this past and future
To keep our minds from exploding
In a saturation of data,
And it’s a common ancestral denying
We share for the sake of the greatest illusion ever seen :

Humankind…
Life and death
Before and after
Memories and prospects
Coming from, moving to…

But every second lives on.
Whenever you mourn a dear and hurtful memory,
And you can feel it almost back in your present,
It’s just that it never died actually.

And the best or worst moments of your life,
Instead of filling a rather closed file
Upon the shelves of your brains,
Remain as a full and constant reality.

Without this so-called perception of time,
We’d go crazy.
Still, what if you’d rather go mad,
And let yourself be flooded entirely
With all you ever lived and will live ;
Wouldn’t it seem quite a better fate,
Than forever mourning the few seconds you regret ?

(Painting by Edvard Munch)