Hourglass

 The sand slides insistently towards the bottom of the hourglass.
Its shifting movement is eternal
 But your grains are few.
What do you want them to be?
 The clock ticks on incessantly
And time marches steadily, irreversibly, towards us all.
 An end is imminent.
Defeat is not.
 Your grains are few.
Their numbers grow smaller each second you read this.
 What do you want them to be?
Some are grains of joy.
 Some are grains of sorrow.
Grains of success and grains of loss
 Culminating to you.
What do you want them to be?
 Each moment is precious
Each grain defines us.
 But we define them too.
What they add up to is up to you.
 What do you want to be?