Post by morciel on Nov 11, 2010 13:58:31 GMT -8
The seat is empty, at the start of the day
Its occupant off on an adventure, learning from experience, joy, and pain
Never mindful of the falling grains of sand
He doesn’t have to be, for there are more grains left for him, more than could be counted
Its noon now and still the seat still empty
The grains ever falling, ever collecting at the bottom of the glass
But now he knows they are there, but he doesn’t care
He more and more risks shattering the glass and spilling the sand
He gains thrill from it.
At twilight the seat is filled
The sand now half fills the glass
He relaxes in the seat, reminiscing on the events of the day
A smile wide of his face
The moon rises, and the sky is dark
He sits in the seat, not of choice but because it pains him to stand
The top of the glass is nearly empty
Regret fills his mind, of chances, risks and choices made, of love lost, and hatred brewed
A new vision finds him, to see all the grains that where wasted, and truly what few remained
A new dawn is visible in the distance
And he is bent in the chair
He has made peace with the sands
He knows that he spent them well
And that he wouldn’t reset the glass any differently if he could
The sun breaks the horizon, as the final grains drain into the bottom of the glass
He sits back, and sighs with a smile on his face
And doesn’t draw breath again
The sun rises once more, and shines on a new chair, much the last one
The glass is turned, the sands shifted, the time renewed
She rises from her chair, running after joy and learning and friendship
As the first new grains drip to the lower glass.
Its occupant off on an adventure, learning from experience, joy, and pain
Never mindful of the falling grains of sand
He doesn’t have to be, for there are more grains left for him, more than could be counted
Its noon now and still the seat still empty
The grains ever falling, ever collecting at the bottom of the glass
But now he knows they are there, but he doesn’t care
He more and more risks shattering the glass and spilling the sand
He gains thrill from it.
At twilight the seat is filled
The sand now half fills the glass
He relaxes in the seat, reminiscing on the events of the day
A smile wide of his face
The moon rises, and the sky is dark
He sits in the seat, not of choice but because it pains him to stand
The top of the glass is nearly empty
Regret fills his mind, of chances, risks and choices made, of love lost, and hatred brewed
A new vision finds him, to see all the grains that where wasted, and truly what few remained
A new dawn is visible in the distance
And he is bent in the chair
He has made peace with the sands
He knows that he spent them well
And that he wouldn’t reset the glass any differently if he could
The sun breaks the horizon, as the final grains drain into the bottom of the glass
He sits back, and sighs with a smile on his face
And doesn’t draw breath again
The sun rises once more, and shines on a new chair, much the last one
The glass is turned, the sands shifted, the time renewed
She rises from her chair, running after joy and learning and friendship
As the first new grains drip to the lower glass.