It’s too soon to say those words;
To let lips slip and drop the sand.

Each granule a marble mulled in mouth;
A weight of thousands slipping through control.

Coarse and garbled morsels fall,
Sifting through the hourglass,
And other words, as grains of sand,
Approach the tapered neck.

Sputtered specks spill to floor
As conversation of crude credence pours,
While praying glass beneath won’t crack as
Words of weight, I empty.