Of Glass and Sand

The essence of Life is that it stops.

Like Sand in an Hour Glass

there is a finite amount of
Seconds, Breaths, Lungfuls of Air

that you as a Body get to take.

All grains of Sand.

We hold them in our fist,

and no matter how tightly or loosely,Screen-Shot-2013-11-01-at-3.50.02-PM

no matter the amount of space between our fingers,

that Sand will fall.

Sometimes we will notice,

and sometimes we will not.

Sometimes we will clench our fists

in an attempt for some control,

in an attempt to joust with Fate,

but all that will occur is an increase of slipping.

And sometimes we will come across the shards

of a Broken Hourglass

take that Glass and Metal lying at our feet

christen it art, poetry, literature, and inspiration

but all it will ever be is part of a Corpse’s story.

The remnants of of a container for something bigger.

We need to remember that.

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Thoughts on the Miracle of Life

They say when a person is born they are eighty percent water.

Behind the curling toes and dimpled fists there is

a river

a lake

an ocean.

They say when a person is born they cry out of instinct.

The purpose to inflate the set of lungs they have

yet

to

use.

Until birth, a baby will have only ever drawn breath through the lungs of another.

And when we come into this world screaming,

fighting

for

breath

we diverge from Mother channel and forge our own waterways.

Up until that point we were all kept alive by

another

person’s

heartbeat.

But at birth we take fate into our own dimpled fists,

and make Life from water and sound.

baby-hand2