A blip within this moment, within this
forever. One grain of sand falling,
becoming like all the rest
in the hourglass time bottle.
Hero heralded to myth
of being known within the folds of this universe;
made by each hand yet
known to be molded
by the few rather than a little bit
of that forever winding time bottle.
Sand tumbling until it meets the bottom.
the sand will refill, reflow and continue
memory with memory,
hand in hand,
as the world’s worst moments meet
with images of riding the red, rusty bicycle,
the running of a dog beneath the sprinklers,
and feet being washed by ocean foam
all within the same glass walls.
The sand will one day level out;
time will be the wind.
Poetry and photography by Hazel J. Hall.
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