I heard the Indian sage
Say that there was no time

But I believe the ungraven image
That my mirror shows me
As I see my mother’s face
Emerge from my aging features,
And my grandmother’s heavy lids
As my eyes grow smaller and smaller.

There is time
Because we are mortal.

There is death
because we are nothing.

There is love
Because we are crazy
And want to be happy
forever.