mardi, août 09, 2005
To a maniac-depressed person
hangs an hourglass in the air.
gently shaped by the glassblower's hands
the smooth curves fill of love and care.
but Alas the hourglass is broke in pain
the bottom-half shattered now splinters in the land.
yet neverending still the sand must flow
down and out while the glass still holds.
the sand grains seem alive: sliding, falling
over one another as they tumble down the empty hole.
inert silica which bear the mark of our age;
counting down the fourth dimension of our lives.
the sands of time fall unknowingly through the broke hourglass
no more glass walls to catch their fall.
there will be no more journey back the other way,
the world will never be right side up again.
down is the enemy's gate my friend,
run through, fall, fall without hesitation.
seemingly weightless they are caught by the lightest of breezes
jostled and dispersed by uncaring gas molecules
the sands, thus, are lost. time scattered,
the hourglass unreplendished.
to all who watch and follow the drift:
Fly with the sands, be gone before the last grain falls.
reading through, i note with bemusement the illogical flow of events and the lack of continuity in the lines. i suppose my brain is not very fluent. ah well.
To a maniac-depressed person
in the midst of a meadow grown and green
hangs an hourglass in the air.
gently shaped by the glassblower's hands
the smooth curves fill of love and care.
but Alas the hourglass is broke in pain
the bottom-half shattered now splinters in the land.
yet neverending still the sand must flow
down and out while the glass still holds.
the sand grains seem alive: sliding, falling
over one another as they tumble down the empty hole.
inert silica which bear the mark of our age;
counting down the fourth dimension of our lives.
the sands of time fall unknowingly through the broke hourglass
no more glass walls to catch their fall.
there will be no more journey back the other way,
the world will never be right side up again.
down is the enemy's gate my friend,
run through, fall, fall without hesitation.
seemingly weightless they are caught by the lightest of breezes
jostled and dispersed by uncaring gas molecules
the sands, thus, are lost. time scattered,
the hourglass unreplendished.
to all who watch and follow the drift:
Fly with the sands, be gone before the last grain falls.
reading through, i note with bemusement the illogical flow of events and the lack of continuity in the lines. i suppose my brain is not very fluent. ah well.
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