Sands Of Time

Why was it that sand was used in an hour glass? Was it because of its abundance or perhaps it is due to its quality of timelessness…it is the one thing that makes sense…it is after all where our humble beginnings originated as we were molded into the creatures we are today…

Caught in a whirlwind of sand each grain representing another moment lost, opportunity missed…it is these that I fear the most especially the ones I can no longer remember…I spin round and round until I lose all sense of direction where up is down and down is up suspended in midair with nothing and no one to anchor me…

Hands are constantly extended to me to help me out of this never ending battle but if all I see are hands then how can I simply trust them…how do I not know that they will take me to an even worse place…I need more…

The longer I wait the less hands there are and it seems as if the sands begin a process of cohesion in which they begin to form boulders and ultimately a glass prism with me in the center…unable to shout out or reach anyone that might aid me…with every passing moment the darker it grows in there…it is almost as if the outer shell of the prism begins to absorb and reflect this grotesque darkness…for I watch life continue before my eyes trapped in this crystal maze while people go on never even noticing the truth behind the now obsidian like creation…they marvel in its unsettling outer beauty never truly understanding what beauty it contains …forever locked away in these sands of time