Oh!

How we clutch the last moment

of the next to the last moment!

And Oh!

The pain of that last of the last grain

in the hour glass

falling through to fill again

for the millionth time, (perhaps)

the bottom bottle!!

And what of that?

What then?

Is there some sentient something

worrying over its creations diminishment

that started when the mechanism first flipped?

And what’s to be done for it?

Or will there be a mustard seed

mixed among the grains

and will that be enough

to grow life again?

Who knows?

So I grasp the hand

of my fellow grain of sand

and we take the plunge

together.

For that’s, really,

all there is,

now,

isn’t it?