The Hourglass

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How I longed to live in those moments that passed.
Though stationary I sat, inside I was going fast.
For I was an hourglass of trickling sand,
Whose final hour ended when I fell from your hand.

There were rough days of constant turning
And all the while I was earnestly yearning.
That for a little bit longer, things should be the same,
But soon enough, I was upside down again.

Some days it all went so pleasantly slow,
Like sand sifting gently from my head to my toes.
Other days would flow within me like a stream,
Such ones, to me, were just simply in between.

One day you found me, called me a friend.
We lived in a world where time never ends.
We brought each other comfort, you and I,
It was as if we would never have to say goodbye.
You perched idly beside me as I offered you a show,
“Life is difficult,” you said, as if I didn’t know.
Be it sunshine or clouds, together we sat,
And as opportunity drip-dropped like rain on the front mat.

Soon came the hour that we were to be no more.
You softly breathed your last and sent me straight down to the floor.
The last grain of sand marked the end of you and I.
No longer would this life’s moments swiftly pass us by.


To some, time is a thing to be wasted. To others, it is a precious entity that they long to honor. Time is eludes us all, yet still remains faithfully under our control.

We hear from an hourglass, the measurement device of antiquity. The hourglass describes its limited, yet varied existence, making comparisons to the ups and downs of life. It longs to be able to do more with the time that runs inside of itself, but is unable to. Someone comes upon the hourglass and forms a bond with it, turning it over and over again. Instead of utilizing time actively, the individual is content to watch it pass. To this person, it is as if time will last forever as long as they turn the hourglass over again. But the end of this world’s hour comes for the two of them, a reminder that all things, both of soul and without, must return to their Maker.

Holding time does not mean one has control of it. We must worry about being asked regarding how we used time. Time is an investment and there is much to be done. If we use it wisely and see the blessing of it, filling it with good deeds and the remembrance of Allah, we can hope to be amongst those who will enjoy a timeless bliss in the world to come.

Aziza, lovingly named after her maternal grandmother, is a part-Indian, part-European Ohioan. With an interest in writing and learning more about her faith of Islam, she found her niche in MYM. She is excited to be able to communicate the cherished feelings in her heart. Through her pieces, she hopes to inspire not only Muslims, but non-Muslims alike.

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