Whispers of light filter through the
glass enclosure, revealing that the
only thing that stands still is the
pillars that have enraptured an hourglass
Neither the top or the bottom is
full, neither side equally
sharing the same amount of small grains
of sand that slowly marches from
one side to the other
Each grain of sand marking the march
of time that steps along to it's own
rhythm
This glass fragile and yet as
daunting as an invisible wall
for helpless eyes to watch the
sand continue to march on
Albeit with the moments when each
second seems suspended in midair so
to is the yearning for it to pass
quickly onward
Yet like a balancing of sorts so to
are present the moments with echoes
for the seconds to freeze to savor
that cherished moment
And so one by one each grain of sand
in an hourglass slips to it's destiny
