00:59

00:59

Sitting at the bottom of the glass,

I listen to the tinkling grains of sand,

as they rain over top of me

Slowly, they are filling the bottom

Once I could walk over them,

but now I wade through the knee-deep sand sea

I build a mound and stand atop,

watching in horror as the grains fall

In less than an hour, they will swallow me

My mound grows much too small,

and I climb my way to the narrow neck of the bottle

to escape the hour moving too quickly

But the sand is still raining,

and I am still climbing,

to reach the top of the rim to be free

The sandy beads are pulling me underneath,

trying to drag me under and suffocate me

My time is slowly waning

This is my final hour

If I don’t make it out now,

I will be lost to the depths of eternity

I scrape myself up the sides of the glass

Each second may be the last

The sand falling into my eyes; I can’t see

My hand reaches the top of the bottle now

I am just about the pull myself out

when the sand stops falling…