Time's Melting Hour

In the realm of chronos, where moments slip away, A golden clock stands, its form in disarray. Like Salvador's dreams, it melts into the air, As rocks and fragments float, suspended without a care. The hands still move, a testament to time's own pace, Yet, in this surreal landscape, all is not in its place. The sky ablaze with hues of orange, blue, and gold, Reflects the turmoil, as the clock's form grows old. In this dreamlike state, where the rational fades, We find the beauty in the distorted, surreal shades. A commentary on time's relentless march and decay, This artwork beckons us to ponder, to seize the day. For in the melting hour, we find a truth profound, That time, though fleeting, shapes our lives around.