The Hourglass

Poetry by Nicole Plumridge
Photo by Roy Muz

Somewhere in the folds of time
as age creeps up and lingers,
time, a haunting presence in the mind,
as regular as clockwork, death sends its harbinger.

Time, the destroyer, the boundless.
Time marches to a different tune.
A cold melody with notes of harshness,
yet with a beauty as eternal as the moon.

Time, our relentless foe,
can also be a steadfast friend.
It all depends on how we decide to spend tomorrow.
Choice is all that matters in the end.

So, choose to spend precious time
in acts of joy and love.
Let this moment, this rhyme
inspire, before our souls drift into the realm above.

For time, like the fine grains of sand
within the desert, extends into forever.
Yet, the longer we roam this undulating land
the quicker we realise how it washes away and is weathered.

This ethereal time slips deftly past us
trickling through the hourglass.
At first slowly, these grains of sparkling dust
suddenly build momentum and are gone fast.

This dawning realisation can happen overnight
or in the blink of an eye.
Your soul awakens in pure fright.
One day, you are going to die.

So, embrace each treasured moment;
create magic out of stardust.
Take advantage of each breath kindly lent,
before all that’s gold is turned to rust.

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