Glass Hours

So doth each nameless grain of sand Deny the fate of those who went before Believing there is purpose to their flow As waves believe their haven is the shore Idly they joust in momentary queues Unable to resist time’s ebbing tide Each grain a silent second paying dues Destined to complete its senseless ride Thus, pride becomes ensnared in ego’s dread Of those who challenge reason’s need Join the depleted ranks of reason’s dead Believing somehow they will all be freed Hold still, cling to your dream, the die is cast Death’s hours will encompass first and last. John G. Lawless ©6/16/2023