Hourglass

There is a constant draining of the sand from my hourglass.
Each falling grain, a moment forever passed.
No slowing it’s descent, or stopping the sieve, every granule one closer to the last.

So full of moments, these fractions of time, within my vial of existence set,
There is no ransom one can pay for another piece of this precious grit.

Oh at times how I wish to hasten the draining of this timepiece,
To breath a last sigh, my spirit to release.

Of the most precious seconds buried below, piled upon, buried beneath darkness in tow, I grasp the beauty of mine dreams, within me they illuminate a hopeful glow.