Life is a one-ended hourglass
Every grain through the neck-
a moment,
a memory,
a feeling,
a sensation.
As I watch each one fall,
I see them transform into little pieces of me—
each grain a shard of my soul,
slipping through the bulbs narrow eye—
flashes and glimmers
of what shaped me.
I sit and stare at these grains,
these memories,
these moments.
I feel them:
some, like a warm hug
I wish would never end;
others, like an ice pick
slowly pressed into my chest,
piercing my heart—
an endless ache.
I've lived in heaven:
in love and warmth,
held by angels,
bathed in God’s glow,
briefly wrapped in eternal peace.
I've endured hell:
pain and loss,
beaten by demons,
burned by Satan’s fire.
And as the flames decide my worth they flicker out,
leaving ash where hope once burned—
I now sit in limbo—
no heaven,
no hell,
just emptiness.
That hourglass turns opaque, the sand no longer falls.
No new grains form.
Memories stop.
I stare into the desolate hourglass:
nothing.