Sands of Change

Time continuously flows, and yet,
The world has ceased spinning.
Everything loved is now lost.
There is no turning back the clock.
A treasure once held so delicately,
Now broken, crumbled,
Cascading through limp fingers;
Sand sifts through an hourglass.
In helpless agony, eyes are glued,
The thin sandy stream pours swiftly.
Dreams rush into the granular whirlpool.
Glassy surroundings offer no friction.
As the sands fall, so do the tears.
Both trickle down a smooth surface.
Nothing can save the shattered hopes.
The past fills with fragments;
Piles of regret augment.
Each grain flows to the ultimate destiny.
Time cannot be recovered.
What is lost cannot be restored.
The future lays empty, void of sand,
The figure stands still, hesitating.
The sands cannot be reversed,
But can begin once more with the turn of fate.
Shaking hands reach to rotate the clock,
Will this span be filled with regret?
Or is time, in fact, the great healer?
The choice is for the individual.
Knuckles wipe away at fears rushing down.
A sigh escapes, hands clenched,
A decision made; no more uncertainty.
Determined hands turn the Timer.
Walking away, a smile crosses worn lips.
Life is given the chance to begin anew.