HOURGLASS

The years have passed.

I am no longer in the eye of the storm.

The tempest drifts away, but everything is destroyed.

You are the one I had been waiting for,

but you arrived too late,

for I am no longer capable of loving you;

I no longer have enough strength, nor innocence.

My candor burned away in the arms of so many others.

Once, the mere sight of a naked body would unsettle me;

now, it is nothing more than an impersonal mass of flesh and bones in decay,

a fleeting assembly of organs in such fragile balance.

Your caresses have no effect on me.

I realize I have become nothing but a withered piece of wood.

Time destroys everything in its path.

So many years spent within four walls,

without the slightest contact.

To survive, some things had to die within me.

In the hourglass, the sand flows inexorably.

And when I am finally ready, it is already too late.

When I finally become capable of living,

of facing existence, it will be time to die.

The years pass faster and faster.

The sand flows,flows mercilessly.

People disappear. Some die,many become insignificant.

I have traveled the physical worldand delved into myself.

The scars are irreversible,the wounds remind me of them.

The soul, like a sponge,has absorbed the suffering of the world.

And the mind, fragmented,scattered here and there.

In weightlessness, in the dead of night,

words escape effortlessly,with no shame left.

I hear the sand flowing...