The Persistence of Memory

In a realm where dreams hold sway,

Dalí's canvas comes to play,

"The Persistence of Memory," a scene untold,

Where surreal wonders and time unfold.

Melting watches, malleable and strange,

Draped over tree and form deranged,

Solid and fluid, their existence a riddle,

Time's rigidity here starts to fiddle.

A desolate land, a shore unknown,

Barren and rocky, a world of its own,

Stretching to the horizon, a canvas vast,

Where surreal fantasies dance and contrast.

Creature draped on rocky ground,

Morphing forms in beauty found,

Organic, inorganic, boundaries blur,

Surreal transformation, the mind's whisper.

A profile face emerges near,

Dalí's own visage, it does appear,

Distorted, elongated, a self in flux,

Surreal transformation, reality bucks.

Clocks in the distance, near the sea's embrace,

Time's unraveling across space,

Scattered like stars, surreal and sublime,

A continuum of time defying rhyme.

Dreamlike light, a warm embrace,

Illuminates this surreal space,

Ethereal glow, a soft allure,

Surreal dreamscape, thoughts impure.

No humans tread this realm surreal,

Absence creates a dreamy feel,

Forms interact, transform in thought,

The canvas speaks, a world begot.

In Dalí's realm of the mind's domain,

"Surreal" is the language, the refrain,

Wonders woven, time's fabric spun,

"The Persistence of Memory," surreal's own sun.