The Pergamon Museum, Berlin

The museum will be closing soon
leaving  the gods and goddesses alone
in darkened rooms
where all promises have turned to stone.
In the December mist
a canary yellow tram stops at Alexanderplatz,
a gipsy accordionist is playing in the street.
Time has proved me wrong:
all of it is happening in an eternal present.
All of it is unalterably and infinitely gone.