Sands of Time

This poem is the musing of a man in his death bed. As his end comes near, with each passing second, he looks back at his adventurous journey with his constant partner, Time.

Shines the little hourglass, perched on the stool

The sand trickles down, and there goes each passed bit;

The moonlight spreads a white sheet on the pool,

Not a ripple in the pond, hidden stoic pain is its bid.

 

Yes, these are the sands of time,

Man’s best-loved muse, so little understood.

Carrying within, the definite and the infinite;

Show me a being, beat it who could.

 

Oh! The moment I was born,

Began my affair with you;

Through sunny days or the eyes of storm,

Holding your tireless hands I grew.

 

You did give me such moments divine,

Basking in the light of your true love, my glory;

And then there were days which I barely survived,

For so long you would be cross, I could not be more sorry!

 

But in the darkest of nights, my dear love sweet,

You did not leave my hand;

On which I wrote my story, you were the empty slate,

My little chapters, your each small sand;

 

Throughout our alliance, bittersweet,

We loved, we laughed, we fought but we never parted;

You were my true companion who never meant deceit,

For your faithfulness, I thank you, whole-hearted.

 

But now, I am rusted, just a few breaths perchance,

I know I won’t be able to, though to stay with you I’m trying;

This is where comes to an end, our coral romance,

Thank you again, my dear, for giving me my story sublime!