I'd meant to post another piece of short fiction here, but I never quite got around to writing it up. But I did scribble down a poem the other day and would enjoy any feedback, especially since I rarely write poetry.
And what if I could see in the pauses between seconds,
let the tide of time run still without ebb or flow,
and breathe without fear of the weight of sand above me,
or the fall onto the pillars beneath me.
At peace in the present, without
As if I turned the black sand glass to rest upon its side,
with some small grain caught between one single moment in the sieve
I dont think I could rest for that instance, just as the grain could not remain still,
but knows it will soon be righted,
to either back into the reserve of unfallen time.
One grain redeemed, only to fall at another time.
Time is a desert, a wilderness of horrors,
where what we fear beyond the horizon
is exceeded by the memories we leave forgotten behind us.
But storms arise and place all time beneath and above us
within the air we breath and the glances we take,
until the fears above and beneath us are once more the moments,
waiting in the single spot between two seas of an hourglass.