Entropy in the Hourglass

ENTROPY IN THE HOURGLASS

I feel.
We cause pain-
to write.
Once I saw people fall like grains of sand-
They fell into my hourglass.
They lay there- for me to count, to contemplate
linear prophecies of a lifetime.

We all have lifetimes--
and babies
and hobbies.

My hobby lies in tears-
My tears fell last year at this time.

This is how I foretold infinity
and squealed from the entropy.
This is how Chaos greeted me with a smile.

I was told this.
I was told,

"Do not trust the uncontrollable, the limitless, the boundless
existence of antimatter anarchy."

He says this- he says this as he smiles suggestively at my soulful
silhouette.
He says this as he peers at my arcana at the table.

But this won't do--not this time.

Numbers, letters, mystical, analysis simply doesn't satisfy.

This feeling I do not question, this is why--
This occasion calls for champagne euphoria and waltzes in my
mind.

I fear this as I fear threads cut far too short---
too fast and too short.

And this too- is too fast and I dread its length in time.

Terminable--
things, all things are terminable.

I have a line that ends-
definable point of existence is--

If this line ends in poetry.
Chaos overwhelms.
Chaos lies in the grains of sand.

I lie in the gravestone.
And think.
And write.

To dream, to die as energy turns to entropy.
If entropy turns to metered rhyme,
then this is a happy ending.