The Emptying Hourglass

by Timothy Birdnow

3/8/2026

Tick

another moment passes in it's excruciating way

another grain has fallen as a piece of life turns gray

it seems as if the Sahara has dropped today yet I glance at the hourglass and see it is but early day, well before anything worth doing and not time to play

The sun won't show itself to me it seems

the hour feels late but it's barely past my dreams

I kill a minute making coffee without the cream

and the moments pass away one sip after another in an endless stream

Tick

Surely it must be time for lunch

but it's only breakfast

monotony and tedium are but broken for a moment by the preparing of my repast

I feast upon the eggs, which shatter like glass and then die in the pan

the seconds amass like the coffee dregs as I do what I can

Tick

It seems the whole planet Mars should have fallen down the drain

yet barely any seems to drop, more a drizzle than a rain

What can a man say when he is lonely or in pain?

Is the clock broken or is there really so much that remains?

Tick

lunch serves no better; it just kills but a minute

when push comes to crunch you will wait while you're in it

The day is partly done now but there's no way to win it

I kill some more time though this day seems infinite

Maybe after lunch I'll take a long nap

but of course I can't sleep, no way to bridge the gap

between the dropping of the sand which has become such a trap

each second falling like snow in some insane Chinese trap.

Tick

Where does a man's life go, how does he lose so much time even while it passes so very slow?

the ticking of that damnable clock seems eternal but the winds of time blow

and soon the stage will empty, the lights turn off, the end of the show

Tick

It was never this way when she was around

The ticking was silent, there was nary a sound

but all the while the interest did compound

then the all time victor won that final round

Is it time for supper yet?

Before asking that question it seems it was done

and the falling cold sand put out the eyes of the sun

the eve is upon me as the daylight ends her run

and that long empty night that I wish I could shun

Tick

Soon I will sleep for another long night

but the sand is quite deep, falling like snowflakes in flight as they slowly bury the bones of the just and unjust alike leaving us all out of sight

and no man ever won that long war though he might fight

The seconds pass by like snow in the fall

each flake lasts a moment and then that is all

though they drag out forever they're gone in warm weather still they tarry and crawl

and they win in the end, we all sleep in the pall

Tick

One day the sands will finish their labors with groans

and a little engraving will end on the stones

there may be laughter in the eternal hereafter at the seat of the one on His throne

But here the great evil tyrant slowly buries my bones

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