Time
The
moments
slip like
sand through
fingers, falling
in whispers, silent
seconds gathering below,
memories made, then let go.
Grains of light and loss,
laughter echoes across
the narrowing neck—
a pause, a check,
now upside
down again,
cycles of
time and
thought
shift
fall
rise
lift
thought
again and
again we
tumble in
this narrow
glass of now,
watching how
we disappear
just to reappear,
becoming both less,
and somehow more clear.
And below what falls becomes
a bed, soft with knowledge, pain
smoothed, a joy remembered, patience
planted, and truth distilled in silence. At the
bottom: not emptiness, but stillness.
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