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The Hourglass
linger each age...
akin a golden sage
it moves,a shadow with another
every hour does it synchronize with the other
harmonize with the world of fain
with a tick,and a tock
it moves with the flock
of tireless insatiate men
jaded with obscure vain.
and it doth turn,all o'the way round
the hourglass maketh a little sound.
laughs on the scorn of fate and death
awaits for each turn to spurn their faith
it hides the box of her naked chaos
the grim and wrath of malicious pathos.
a machinery of the prejudiced mind,
naps on the walls of every kind.
chuckles on the steps of the beauteous Morai
the clock plucks the thorn of every man's cry-
wither it not,nor rests does it after evey walk
fleets time's sheets,with every tick and a tock....
