Hourglass Becoming…

Tide-speckled beach,
yesterday’s once piercing shrapnel,
the cutting short of breath in wars past,
now but aggression’s respite
preparing the next iteration.

Why now do the dunes arouse our sorrow,
their feathery grass-mounds unraveling,
making conscious our history's nightmare
once of dormant pause?

Why this seeming inevitability,
this place,
this threat of everything lost,
self-annihilation,
rendering a planet anchor-less to drift?

Life reluctantly reclines among the grit of a tide’s will,
erosion’s remnants riding the sea’s foamy edges,
seeing the yesterdays rushing ashore,
becoming more layered echoes
of Nature’s disappointment.

History, our inherent perpetual motion,
continues to repeat yet more warfare,
causing Time’s patience to dwindle
waiting out the hour glass becoming
a minute glass,
a second glass,
an empty glass.