TIME AND THE SANDCLOCK

       Once I have seen you watching the sandclock on the shelf, as you were watching someone in silence, in a dialog of the eyes. And when my eyes met yours, I knew you were speaking in your mind with the Time, asking it who had emprisoned it there, inside the fragile glass outline. You were asking it since when has it been tormenting there, emprisoned among the sand grains, condemned to see through the cold glass horizons that it will never reach again... And you were supposing that maybe the people's fear of aging and of dying had locked it up there... or maybe their desire to wipe out the errors of the past... And the Time was keeping silent, in its great silence, hidden somewhere inside the sleeping sand within the transparent walls.
        Maybe it hadn't hear you... or maybe, looking at you before answering, it had met my praying eyes, imploring it not to tell you... Not to tell you that I was the one to lock it up there, although not for fears, regrets or useless remorses... but because I didn't want to let it take from me the beauty I had lived, because I wanted to keep forever, hidden inside the tropical laziness of the sand carrying along the smell of the sea, the gold that the light of the summers with names of love had scattered upon our hearts.

© Copyright reserved
No part(s) of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, transcribed, stored in a retrieval system, or translated into any language in any form by any means without the written permission of the author.

Romanian version

E-mail me

Page backgrounds © Lonely Shell