The grains of sand,
each of their own accord,
move through the bottleneck
in the hourglass of now.
One by one,
leaving the intimacy of before
to honor the impact arrival of after,
so honoring of the gravity embrace
and so impartial
to the bind left behind.
Yet each is precious to
the timing of the whole.
Singular and meticulously trusting
in the spontaneity of the free fall.
To produce the subtlest of evidence
that no moment is ever the same,
no second ever without
some ecstasy and agony
not for or from the task at hand
but from the experiential longings
present in the self-consciousness
of timely observations . . .
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