Rock,
ground ever smaller by the infinity of time,
Seeming forever…..In silence,…..Flowing,
mesmerisingly, from one hemisphere of the hourglass,
to the other.
Reflected in the thin, clear glass,
a bumblebee hovering, picking,
the best of the golden dust from the sunflower.
Then the rain comes,
not fine drizzle,
but….Large drops.
Thinking…..
If one were to hit the bumblebee,
it would be like a ten pound hammer……
I wonder…..
If it knows it is Saturday?…..
Then,
there is my reality,
fluid, like the fine sand in the hourglass.
I must remember,
not to grip my meager handful too hard,
lest it trickles through my fingers.
I wonder……
Is it possible to reverse the flow in the hourglass,
without turning it over?
Involuntarily my grip tightens,
I feel my meager handful becoming less and less.
The bumblebee hovers,
still … It rains…..
Still….. The sand flows,
still… The Sunflower……
Strong……..Silent…..Resplendent,
bears witness,
while I, ponder the dream.