Part Two

How you trickle silently,

Thoughtless of the grains already

Falling prey to gravity,

Filling up her bottom half.

 

Early on the hourglass was

So top-heavy, slow to empty,

Moving with the speed of trees

Left growing on the mountainside.

 

Then somewhere along the way

Your flow increased eleven-fold,

Smothering the future in an arid,

Acrid storm of dust.

 

Memories belittle any distant dream

Of wealth or fame,

Settling instead for hope of

Reinstated afterlife.

 

Let there be no sad regret.

Let there be no sorrow.

Part two isn’t over yet.

I wait to meet tomorrow.

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