The Prophet's Hourglass

A ship passes
in the cool winter breeze,
lost aside the noontide,
consigned to already yesterday…

This is the sand that drains
in the dreams
of the prophet,
holding his hourglass.

The future is possible,
probable,
predictable,
and even profitable…

But are these profits,
these goals, these desires
worth accosting at the cost
of the memoirs of the mind?

Is it worth leaving it all behind?

The hourglass is empty
but the sand the prophet sees still.
Like all men of wisdom,
he remembers and retains
although desolate his dreams
of yesterday remain.

Matt K, Summer 2005