Part Two

How you trickle silently, 
Thoughtless of the grains already 
Falling prey to gravity, 
Filling up her bottom half.

Early on the hourglass was 
So top-heavy, slow to empty, 
Moving with the speed of trees 
Left growing on the mountainside.

Then somewhere along the way 
Your flow increased eleven-fold, 
Smothering the future in an arid, 
Acrid storm of dust.

Memories belittle any distant dream 
Of wealth or fame, 
Settling instead for hope of 
Reinstated afterlife.

Let there be no sad regret. 
Let there be no sorrow. 
Part two isn’t over yet. 
I wait to meet tomorrow.

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