The Hourglass Poem by Abhijit Roy

Once estimated by the Sun’s position,
Father Time, now is coffined alive in an hourglass;
The sand-grains trickling down,
Within a female figure, ensnared in a wooden frame.

Grains fall, He passes by, and waits for none;
Allows you to decide when to do what,
But your denial to race against Him, costs you too much dear,
You set for the brunt you’re about to bear? ?

Events, Yesterdays and Tomorrows, all tagged upon Him,
And breaking the glass, renders the damsel dead,
But Him.
He is like her soul, won’t delay for thee;
Ever looking for a chance to flee.

Every broken hourglass, has a tragic plight,
Oh, Lord! Attractive was it when the specks held tight;
He’s gone far too away.
And yelling for Him is in vain.
Heck! He won’t reside in a house of disorder.
He won’t make love to a body of displeasure.

-

Abhijit Roy
Place: Guwahati, Assam
Date: 13-march-2011