Hourglass

The skyline, a pale blue with the
Retreating day, and I sit, placid,
With my feet upon the very thing
Which counts down the seconds of
My existence oh to pocket just a grain
And keep it as my last claim to a foothold,
Alas, the reaper would never allow such a
Thing to occur, and who am I to defy him?

The ocean now red with anger at the cold
Which  awaits it as the breeze takes
Grip, seems to speak to me, or maybe I will
It too out of longing for comfort in my moment
Of pensiveness. I always get quite somber when I
Think, terrible curse that, thinking that is, can
Drive a man crazy, not that the bulk of manhood
Isn't crazy already, crazier would fit better i think.

And there shines the first star of the night,
Not quite as opalescent as I would have hoped
For, but then the elements and the beings of
Nature don't paint the world to my desires.
And here, with the ebb and flow of the command
Of Poseidon, I watch first hand, my grains disappear

Before my eyes. Makes me wonder before they vanish
Completely, will someone join me in the sand?