HourGlass
Sands
You see each grain fall with focus.
Transfixed, on what is taken from you each decent. But no interest in what has transpired within the glass walls of time.
Anxiously concerned by sands volume, forgetting each day begins anew. We wonder what it is you see in our feldspar.
Watching so intently, yet you seeing little, we cascade before your hungry gaze. A river streaming bed of quartz that offers rest for no one.
Which is the weary I propose to you, The fallen glass, or the eyes upon it?
The moment lost, or the many wasted. In hindsight, beneath the glass as well as outside its containment. The grain at rest, or the one in launch. We ponder.
Neither and both, they run the course.
The hands of time smile upon us. Wondering what we seek, both sides of the looking glass.
Travel unnoticed.
