Paganus Akritas

The Hourglass

​

How sand of musings course a narrow pass,

In hopes to join the grains of yesteryear;

I watch each gravel grind along the glass,

Till falling through the air to persevere,

Until they land the shore of fallen friend

And settle in a rudimentary hold;

Their journey full of life has come to end,

No word of honor spoke, or ever told;

I watch each grit get overgrown in haste,

As soon it fades beneath a mound of sand;

I wonder if the grain felt journey waste

Or troubled by the field in which he land;

But time aloft had come and then was gone,

Unless, a lofty hand doth come along.

​