I sing my songs
my songs, sing me.
We are two phials turning over to each other.
Sands in hourglass, sands in the winds,
,the sands that create time,
the sand that is created, by time.
The time that grinds everything to sand.
Nothing rock solid
would ever lasts the onslaught of age.
Sands, in the wind
pouring in and out of everything
from one glass to the other,
disassembling and assembling
in rocks, mountains, towns, roads
bones, gravity,
now!
Without two
one would never last,
without two mirrors facing each other
the middle objects
wither in their finite confines.
