Hourglass

Even he who moves the clock

must feel time’s unceasing sands

as each independent grain

slips steadily through

his weathered fingers

And even fish of the sea

must sense the waves as they breathe

and unsurely cede their course

And those who run the gamut

from the honored to the damned

must feel the pointlessness of

any effort forcing fate

For all plans and schemes 

will someday weather to sand

and that little second hand

will surely tick on

And though one may try -

as humans so often do - 

no living soul will ever

force the hourglass to still