In the corner it sat on a end table
In shadow
An antique, I’m told
Though who said it escapes me
Measuring time, a grain at a time
The hour glass would serve it’s
Purpose, as if nothing else mattered
A grain at a time, counting the present with
The future always a grain away
I watched as my life passed
With sanguine slowness
Flip, an hour drains away
Flip, more presents..another future
I began to question what if…
There is no real..space..
No real galactic constant
Even though, the grains fell
What if something else were at play
Showing us what we expect to see
Yet, what if for an instant we expected
Something else, would the universe
Change? If there are no galactic
Constants, then what if we choose
To see..something else..
With that I turned to stare at into
the darkness
At the glass standing there, counting down
today’s a grain at a time , yet just for a
moment I suspected my rational mind
just seeing what was before me..
After, a couple of seconds..it stopped
Suspended between the present and the
past. Then a single grain of sand flew
Upward..

An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe