Family Hourglass Poem by Prideless Idiot

Family Hourglass



Gifted a source for soul, timer flips
Scrambling across the room, frantic
Turning over every cardboard, fanatic
Scratching over every surface, haptic
Leaving behinds no marks, pathetic
Hop between the rooms, a lot to explore
Piles of things stacked together, all for you to implore
Especially the shiny one, how much you can adore
Don't forget to touch, never been retold before
Exit your way to the corridor, first liminal space
Not walking to another room, great sense of pace
Trapped in the endless loop, no set base
Getting ready to kill, remove all face
Walk down the stairs, conjure a new dream
Descend into ascension, join the team
Question each step of the way, charge up a beam
Nothing to shoot at, settle for puny cream
Sit on each step, look at the progress
Turn your head around, it was such a mess
Look ahead despite that, it is called a thing the best
A big reverie made, nothing short of to confess
Reach the base floor, revere the red marked trail
Wandering around again, sever the weak tails
Attached to you; it hurts, a complete fail
Cut heavy and keep light, improves the chance to ail
Running along to search among, a chance to bail
Liminal as it gets, does not yet feel like jail
Prepare the ship, sunk while on sail
Bad news occurs, only sent through mail
A few footsteps to the basement, begin deterioration
Body starts sinking in, start of complete devastation
Sand collected in hands, running through fingers; deforestation
Unable to clinch onto any grain, every second feels with complication
Sent your vision to the sky, rebounded to the abyss
Receive a death note, responded with a kiss
Pick up every scrap, each thing can only piss
Let go of trash, run another game of hit or miss
Grains are counting the last few beats, inability to crawl
Unable to get up again, only allowed to bawl
Collapse every version; every form, another chance to brawl?
Have every soul segment digested, vessel left to sprawl
Borned to sand time, disproportionate duration
Walk through each journey, experience emptied
Project cast a dream, rebounded sounds of death
Stand up to fight again, to lock yourself up to pain
What does any of this mean?

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
In the wake of the violent world around us, what for do dreams even stand? What is the cost, what form do they bear? Where do dreams lie and exist?
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
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