Time is an hourglass

Time eludes me as the sand piles up.
Don't think of the past, don't think of the future.
As the shadows of hands pass me by.
The fear is in the future, but it doesn't exist,
and the past holds no control over the falling of
the present sand; so it doesn't exist.

The present is the only piece of sand where
love and pain seem to cycle

The present is the falling piece of sand in the hourglass.
Nevertheless it controls the passing of time; always via a glass.
Losing feet by the grain, slipping by the end.
Getting cramped looking at all this space as death eludes me,
I'm born once more.

You could say death ends the falling of sand,
But that's the biggest lie I've ever heard.
Dying is pretty much the best thing that ever,
happened to me.