I love the hourglass,
Its voluptuousness, its curves.
The way it reminds me
Of love handles oh so soft
And the hours of lascivious indulgence
Of sighs of passions
And fleeting moments of exquisite delight.

And I hate it
For its inexorability, its adamance.
Not one grain of it
Can be lured to pause, to linger
As it hurtles on
To join the growing heap below
In unseemly hurry to yell at me
That my Time's up.

But beyond love and hate
Truth lies.
And beyond pleasure and pain
Death lives.
When Time stops,
Eternity begins.
Or doesn't it?