Maybe time doesn't exist

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Maybe time doesn't exist, it's just an illusion,
a somnambulist who in equilibrium slips,
on the fragile rope of life, without reason.
Like a dancer in an unhinged rite,
he advances without rest, without respite or cessation,
his uncertain steps play with destiny,
while the universe vanishes into the sea.
They are his invisible footsteps, like whispers,
that vanish into thin air without a trace,
each instant, ephemeral, slips and fades away,
in this cosmic, mystical and opaque dance.
Past, present and future intertwine,
in a confused tangle of lost moments,
a bewildering swaying of formless instants,
where time is diluted in vanished verses.
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