the sand dial turned over at the big bang,
housed smaller sand dials turned
over at our own births
but if we find
flip it over
we can maybe
start over and hell
do some walk by flip overs
a wild hoedown bonanza of new days
Tags: poem, poem about birth and death, poetry, sand dials, sand dials at funerals, sand dials in maternity wards
Amazing imagery! Looks both like an hourglass and a pair of wings. And you know what they say about the butterfly effect.
Also reminds me of this:
“Everything changes and nothing remains still and you cannot step twice into the same stream.” — the Weeping Philosopher, Heraclitus.
That would explain a lot of frustration and sadness. I think tomorrow I’ll eat something different for breakfast.
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