Bitter tick of Earth's unending spin two, then four, then six
Of hours passed Sands trickle past shattered glass Flip it over; start again.
Insubstantial diminished like a cup that never gets full no matter how many raindrops fill live just to see how much time there is to kill.
Will I see iridescent skies? Starry nights, soft yellow light? The gentle glow of a campfire lit?
I'm waiting for liberation as the cruel clock ticks.