Hourglass

It is a glass of triangular shapes on both ends,
It is filled with a seemingly endless amount of sand.
Engraved in the wooden glass is the path of our destiny,
And yet, most are engraved with mutiny.
The sand always falls, it never stops.
The sand pile in the last triangle grows larger than the first.
When the sand runs out you simply start over again.
Flip it over, and life continues.
But if it breaks-
I'll let you guess.
Category:Leafwhisker
Category:Completed Stories/Poems