The Hourglass

It's ticking over, while you think over and over,

Your mind is a mystery, it's precious, held in that one vital organ.

The master of time spins, turns on it's head,

Your thrown off balance by that one true decisive movement that people dread.

Yet it keeps on ticking, while the hourglass runs short,

Not sure what to do, when time is gone through years of thought.

You grab at it, plead it to stop,

But it seeps through, 


What was that thrust so powerful to move it,

Chops, changes things, forces you to keep on moving,

That unmentionable force urges you forward,

Don't look back now,

While you're searching forward.


You're at the bottom now,

Fishing your way upwards, 

What to now?

Care to go back upwards?


With one swift flick its turned back over,

Is it just me, or is this realy out of order?

Life sending you its tests,

You're relieved you're not at the bottom anymore, 

better make the best of it. 





The End

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