Temposcopium n.13
Memento Mori
It dies every life,
it dies every day at night,
every hour when it strikes,
every moment dies in every moment.
I see them ceasing, a second per second,
but I see they are not all the same:
some miserably fall on their knees and
crying they vainly beg mercy;
others go toward the end with no fear,
it almost seems they laugh,
they the blessed, they the lived ones.
Hand-embroidery on upcycled fabric, sterling silver
2018