The hourglass stands, serene, upright,
Its sands cascade in golden light.
Each grain a breath, a fleeting flame—
All fall the same, all end the same.
We watch it spill, we beg it slow,
But time is deaf to what we know.
It does not hear, it will not wait—
It only moves, sealing our fate.
A thousand dreams in crystal fall,
Unspoken truths, unanswered calls.
They vanish as the glass runs thin,
And leave no sign of what had been.
No hand can turn it once it's done,
No race to rerun, no war re-won.
We try to catch each falling thread—
But time’s ahead, and we are led.
We leave behind no echo’s cry,
Just fading steps and empty sky.
No monument, no grand refrain—
Just silence where we once had pain.
The last grain falls, the glass stands still,
No voice remains, no hope, no will.
A whisper lost in wind and air—
We were, we passed, we’re never there.
So live before the glass grows bare,
Before we’re ghosts of what was there.
Make beauty now, with all your grace—
Or vanish, nameless, without trace.
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