“Sands Of Time"

The hourglass is connected to the marrow
of time and space, a sacred passage.
Sands trickle by the means of gravity
and as time passes, the chamber is emptied.
The image left in the sands describes
the metaphor of the pendulum transcribed,
footprints of another existence,
perhaps a different meaning of an instance,
in the bivouac of this grain
hear within the whisper of eons apart.

When eternity unveils itself
and all the places we've been,
all the faces in the sands we've seen,
will be the price we must pay
for occupying this time and space.
The mystery of a moonlit moment
shinning across ages of serenity,
dancing in eternity.

And with the evangelion of time
this endless process of life ensues
the gospel of meaning, exciting
an apparently irreversible dream.
A component of a quantity
whispering the duration of this insanity,
a construct of the before and after,
leaving us wandering in the now.
An existence of dreams and memories,
for neither co-existence nor succession
can be experienced in the sands of time.

In this circadian cluster
all exists, and nothing at all.
Exciting and inhibiting worlds behind
the eyes of a cosmic being.
In the neurons of our existence
distinguish events of spacetime,
and from the origin of this abstract
life written between the lines,
beginning of the end or an end of the beginning,
a perfect immersive flow of spatial existence,
behold the pendulum of our consciousness.

Time still,
space motion,
a sight to behold.
An instance to remember
caught between the before and after,
the hourglass shatters
or reconstructs itself,
a glimpse of a cosmic aria,
indigo ecstasy of the celestial arcadia.