Slow, bending
time sifting through porous gleam of glass,
reflecting sweet light so solemnly embraced;
This hourglass sits serenely,
docile, perceiving and hanging upon each moment for its defined life.
The sands will not grip onto these passing whims,
for it is their job to wander lightly on the path of time;
to usher onward a judgement of the present,
while falling away from ideals of what is past.
The watchers and wishers wring palms and wipe sweat wayward,
scrutinizing the character of those ambulating grains.
Like a river, they strive for transcience,
passing from one hand to the next,
still counting, but never accepting permanence.
If only, the watchers think, we could twist the crossing of sand into a shape more formidable;
Yet this liquid untouchable form submits to no control,
only continues to sift and swat as it wishes,
consistent and unbound to the watcher's unending persecution. |
Submission Name: Hourglass
