And there will no longer be a yesterday, nor a today, nor a tomorrow. There will only be the moments when we once laughed or cried together.

Time weaves its invisible threads and ties them to the soul, not to clocks. Seconds scatter like leaves carried by the wind, but that laughter—clear as a glass bell—remains suspended in the air. A tear falling on a cheek is not lost, but becomes a hidden pearl in the necklace of memories.

We fool ourselves into thinking we have days, months, years. But we have nothing more than moments—flashes of light in the darkness of forgetting. A hug that melted away silences. A glance that spoke more than any word. An evening when we laughed so hard the stars seemed closer.

Time does not ask, does not ask for permission, does not forgive. But it leaves us with these floating islands where we can return anytime. A song that brings us back to a summer day. A scent that reopens a long-closed door. A photograph that preserves not just faces, but heartbeats.

So in the end, when everything fades into the dust of the past, we will no longer count days, but moments. And maybe time does not belong to us—but what we lived together, no one will ever be able to take away.