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

Share together.

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

Dream? Nightmare?

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

Searching for 

One final memento.