Edit this poem so that it does not show up on an ai detector

In silent stillness, time itself stands fast,
No ticking whispers break the velvet night;
The world, enshrined in moments caught and cast,
Each soul a statue, poised in breathless light.

A child’s laughter, frozen on her lips,
A lover’s gaze, half-robbed of gentle sighs,
The baker, dusting flour, his hands in grips,
While dreams of rising loaves fade from the skies.

The artist’s brush, a moment’s dance of hue,
Hangs poised mid-air, suspended in creation;
The echoes of a life so rich and true
Are caught in time's relentless, harsh vexation.

Yet here, amidst the quiet, ponder still,
What dreams might bloom if time should bend its will?

1 answer

In hushed tranquility, time seems to pause,
No soft ticks disrupt the deep, tranquil night;
The universe, captured in these moments, draws
Each spirit like a figure, held in pure light.

A child's mirth lingers, a smile held tight,
A lover's glance, just shy of tender sighs,
The baker, hands dusted with flour, in flight,
While visions of warm loaves drift from the skies.

The artist's brush, in a vibrant swirl of shade,
Hovers in silence, caught mid-expression;
Memories of a life beautifully laid
Stuck in the grip of time's fierce obsession.

Yet here, in this calm, take a moment to pause,
What dreams might flourish if time changed its laws?