Hour Glass

Every day, given more, you have less.
The worldly weight draws down the sand
From top to bottom, one half takes
As the other gives.
Time would have you think it endless
But always the fine grains trickle softly
Through the clear funnel fashioned of glass
The crystal hardness formed through heat
Of grains not unlike those it now guides
Until the emptiness is clear to the fullness beneath
And all order is reversed.