The Hourglass

Am I but a lonely grain of sand,
Amongst a throng of hopeful grain.
An eternal captive in a foreign land.
Where little hope remains.

Thus begins the inevitable fight,
For a seemingly equal space.
Toiling through, from morn' to night,
To win an unwinnable race.

Like a trains endless journey,
Travelling between two stops.
Creating delicate peaks and frail valleys,
With insurmountable tops.

With each passing second,
As time slips away.
It’s the call of freedom that beckons,
At every moments stay.

The wind has gone, yet do I long,
For where I ought to be.
Where time rests and in it's song,
Across the desert and by the sea.