Friday, December 17, 2010


By: James Dubeau

Sand slips through my fingers
As each day hurtle past
My grasp tightens
To hold on
But it is to no avail
Grains slip through
Cracks and crevices
Behind me
An old man laughs
At my foolishness
He tips an hourglass
Sending the sand
Racing through my fingers
I scream
These are good times
Let them last
With my youth
His only response
Is continued laughter
And tipping the hourglass
Even further
Hastening my sand
Sun and moon
Flash by overhead
Submersing me in darkness and light
Fly on past
Time and time again
I scream in pain
My soul wracked
In deep torment
The old man laughs
Red glows behind beady eyes
Returning the hourglass
To how it once was
Sand no longer flows
While a sliver of moon
Grinds to a halt
High above me
No longer the anguish of
A happy life
Speeding by
Ravages me
For now a darker place
Grips my soul
Turning it most foul
Make it grow fast again
I whimper
The good times are gone
Wasted so fast
Only death and torment
Surround me now
It is much too painful
So I beg of you
Make time fly
Once more
Bring me to good times
Then slow it down
Let me enjoy happiness
Not suffer prolonged anguish
Once more he laughed
Shaking his finger at me
While caressing the hourglass
You shall submit to my will
For I control that
Which you hold most dear
This daemon was right
Soon madness will grasp me
Twisting and contorting my soul
I fell to my knees
And wept

1 comment:

  1. I enjoyed this. Nice imagery and use of the overarching Father Time. it is vivid and has a fervent pace, I see you as spending some decent amount of time on this, polishing it, etc.. And, in the end, this of course rings true for all of us.

    However, what about the scythe?

    Keep up the good, precise work.