The shape of my vessel is two dimensional
The beginning and end, the middle lasts no time.
My matter travels through the tightest of spaces
One grain of me follows the other, in harmony or rage.
I feel the pull of gravity, yet try to stem it daily
Occasionally I freely go with the tide of time.
Often those around me are similar of thought
Though once in a moment their company is overwhelming.
I speed my motion to remove myself from their presence
Yet I meet them or similar along this journey of time.
The warmth of closeness and the rush of wind and air
The outward reflection of the earth, are mere rooms.
My time is near its end I am but a grain of sand
In this hour glass of time, will I ever revolve again?

by
David