The Holder of the Glass

About This Author

A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!

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#820951 added January 14, 2015 at 10:32am
Restrictions: None

The Holder of the Glass

The Holder of the Glass

Perched on his carven heartwood cathedra,
the wizened man with tangled hair
sat before his ink stained desk
and pondered the hourglass standing there.
Made of bronze and hammered gold,
holding globes of leaded glass
the grains within of storied numbers
fell top to bottom as time did pass.

Only he knew each persona, that
each whit of sand was earthen soul,
only he controlled the passing
of their lives, in part and whole.
He could, if he wanted to,
tip the glass and slow the tide
or beat the clock upon the table
rushing death and eroding pride.

Too often when he peered below
opalescent cloud beneath his keep
he'd see how clocks controlled their moments,
how they'd live in walking sleep.
He'd hear them bewail their missing moments
or how they'd wanted to turn back a page
and live again a stolen moment,
go back to a time of younger age.

He shook his head and locks of grey
fell in his eyes and to the floor
knowing that when he gifted those moments
he stole from them days to the fore.
They never knew, and never missed them
for if their dying came oversoon
they were dead and wouldn't know
that they'd paid dearly for his boon.

With each plea granted he'd gain a strand
of hair of bronze or golden hue.
Stolen time would smooth his wrinkles,
milk-white eyes again turned blue.
Days he'd steal, moments, years
from those that squandered, wasted time,
wondering if they'd ever realize
he was the Poet, he wrote the rhyme.,

In doing this, he wrote of choices:
each grain of sand was jewel unformed:
the irritations that went with living
squished in embryonic storm.
Given a specified number of moments,
given a home, each their own world
how many would simply erode away
and how few would choose to be the pearl.

Over the years, he'd too learned lessons:
of time and seasons, each with its place.
Even he has his Keeper
and time passes better spent with grace.
For nothing, save one, will live forever,
thus time needs to savored, wasted not,
used, enjoyed, and yes, remembered
as each grain spends the time it's got.

For lessons learned gift precious moments,
As he well knows, time can stand still--
eons exist between two heartbeats
most won't find them, others will.
The time before a loved one leaves
passes too quickly, he's heard folks say
and the time before they again come home
takes forever, drags day by day.

He ponders another grain dropping though
and thinks how relative time can be;
the old thinking it that shrinks, compresses,
the young seeing it stretch to eternity.
His mind wanders back, millennium many
that he's been ticking off year after year,
finds his eyes begin to water,
reaches up and wipes at single tear.

His eye begins to feel quite scratchy,
he pokes at it with fine-boned hand
and fishes out with one slim finger
a tiny, sparkling grain of sand.
His Keeper arrives, says don't be worried,
Time, my friend can never die.
And then the Keeper sends the grain
to birth a star in endless sky.

Beneath his ermine cloak, the Master
withdraws a child to take the place
of the erstwhile Hourglass holder,
for even Time renews its pace.
With glee the child shakes the sands,
rolls the glass upon its side,
stands it up and flips it over,
unscrews the lid and peers inside.

Then he sets it down upon the table
where it shimmers in the sun,
Starts to learn the souls within it
TimeKeeper's reign has thus begun.
And at night the child looks
up to the heavens, finds newest star
keeps the glass there in the star's light
watches lightning in the jar.

Subject: Time Turner
Words to use: Cloud, squish
Words to avoid: (None)
Additional Criteria: Min 25 lines.

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