The Hourglass

linger each age...

akin a golden sage

it moves,a shadow with another

every hour does it synchronize with the other

harmonize with the world of fain

with a tick,and a tock

it moves with the flock

of tireless insatiate men

jaded with obscure vain.

and it doth turn,all o'the way round

the hourglass maketh a little sound.

laughs on the scorn of fate and death

awaits for each turn to spurn their faith

it hides the box of her naked chaos

the grim and wrath of malicious pathos.

a machinery of the prejudiced mind,

naps on the walls of every kind.

chuckles on the steps of the beauteous Morai

the clock plucks the thorn of every man's cry-

wither it not,nor rests does it after evey walk

fleets time's sheets,with every tick and a tock....