And forever never comes as these moments tick away

Telling time.

Telling me what time it is. What time to get up what time to go.

What time I should be there but never


Where the time goes.

Wasted time,

Being wasted,

Hiding from the click of the clock, behind the wheels,

Behind the cuckoo where minutes are docked.

In my glass of hours,

Reaching high,

Sand slips south softly,

Salty spellbinding shower.

Riddle me the grasping of times grains,

All consuming.

And desert swells up above my ankles,

Anchoring me into the past.

But the clock strikes 12.

And I am still here.

Victim only to my misuse of time.

Shards of glass,


Around me my oasis of time flattens,

The cuckoo bird sings, Wake-Up!

Surprisingly sweet.

For a teller of time.

And it’s time to get up! It’s time to go!

Time for fast forward, no time for slow.

I’m soaring through space,

Splashing past stars,

Realizing the vastness, of real time,

Not ours.

Earthly minutes being so obsolete,

With such little affect, in the total of schemes,


Father time warns me,

With a tick,

And a tock,

That even stars die!

With the passing of a millennia,

And I am struck with the awesomeness,



Never again,

Will times sand make me sleepy,

While I watch for the death of a star.