By Louisa Wang
The ticking of the clock fades into the buzzing noise,
But if you stop to listen you will hear
The finite passing of each second
Flawless and unfaltering in its meter.
The sands of time glitter in the eyes of the makers
Drifting closer to the end. What frivolous trouble we spent
Believing we could reset this sacred machine.
The abysmal void of spiraling dark and dust
Threatens to consume the last luscious moments we
The certainty of the void is insurmountable to all
For there will be no genesis, no rebirth of this world.
The delectable ignorance we indulge in
Becomes an addiction,
Masking the ethereal message they have given
Us. No matter our efforts, the creeping trepidation
Of the permanence of this fate
Grows and devours our thoughts until only the
One second remains.
Each day, a quintessential reminder of
What once was and will never repeat.
The tranquil air more startling than the somersaulting
Flip of the hourglass that started it all.
A firefly trapped in the glass curves flashes,
Jolting me awake from this
I can’t decide, but one thought persists.
They did it. Their inimitable purpose
Fulfilled, and they are
And yet, back I dove into the sand as the light dimmed
One final memento.