It's taken me a while to grasp the concept of time.
I've been watching, wasting, studying it for a long time.
In all of my years I never knew that time would forever be
The one who knows me best.

Time has always been there,
Moving in and out of everything
I've ever done.
Time will never leave,
It can't do that.
It's been said that
Time heals all wounds.

Now, a while back I found and hourglass.
In my basement, in all the clutter and broken things.
I've come to love this hourglass.
It has been there for me every single day,
Watching over me,
Passing for me.

There are white grains in there.
Grains of sand,
Glass,
Abstract materials.
Grains of Time.

I've been thinking a lot lately.
It's hard to believe that these devices once measured time.
How would you know if it had become stuck for a while,
And wasn't really recording time as we know it?
I know that mine gets stuck a lot.
It's been warped by the sun,
It's seen the sunrise,
The sunset,
Everything.
And so the glass is no longer perfect.
But in a way, that's symbolic.
Things may seem perfect,
Moving correctly for quite some time,
Until the endless cycle of days into night,
Into eternity,
Cause it to go astray.

Looking back on what I've said,
Time is always around,
But time is imperfect.
It goes too fast,
Too slow,
In bunches,
In moments.
So there was never really a way to measure the time.

I just hope it doesn't leave us all behind.