Stand still on the sands of time,
feel how cruel the passage can be.
Wade through the grainy river,
feel your immortality erode.
The jagged peaks of youth:
smoothed out by time's cruel hands,
tenderly caressed into old age,
gracefully sanded into quiet dignity.
Moments turned to memories:
the exhilaration of wanton desires,
the culmination of years of hard work,
the careless abandon of shame.
Stand in the waters of the hourglass,
feel the washing of snapshots, the decay.
The torment of stagnant living eats at my soul.
I can hear the whispers, the incantations-
As Saturn speaks, softly, serenely:
"Stand up. Shuffle. Skedaddle. Sortie on. Move…"