The Hourglass ... Final Grain of Sand

The hourglass emptied the final grain of sand
thirty days and forty nights pace .

First fortnight passed so misunderstood
second fleeting fortnight
quietly beheld the quill ,
as if a thousand sleepless nights
inertly stood still

Waxing crescent moon in due time waning ,
what was once understood ;
the space between the thunder’s clap
and the lightening’s bolt draws nearer ,
within reach , yet there's a kind of hush unheard

Lost somewhere amidst the hot with the cold ,
the grain of salt between tongue and cheek ,
take the fat with the lean , feel the sensual touch of bitter sweet ,  the silence bequeathed inside the speak

Maybe it’s the soft inside the hard ,
the lost within the found ;
the want entwines the need
the give inside the take ,
perhaps the timorous torn inside the meek

Nonetheless …
all roads lead to crossroads we stand
the thundering heartbeat within the stillness ,
the " azure violin " bereft a cobalt colour of blue

Too thirsty to drink ,  too hungry to eat ;
none so blind as those will not see
while the waning inkwell spills
like sand glass gently seeps ...

© 2013 ... Harlon Rivers ... all rights reserved

Postscript: 

 

" azure violin " :a referenced title to an earlier poem

http://melancholyrivers.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-azure-violin.html

 

Even with a sand glass 

and the moon nevertheless so ...

even a simple word whisperer, 

with an abacus education knows 

no matter which way the winds of change blow...