Like porcelain, time
can sliver and shatter,
Lightened spirits,
mind over matter.

Solid once,
in it's true state.
Through molten lava,
before hell's gate.

Slicing, shredding,
causing to bleed.
The wanton collection,
the needless need.

Worn and tattered,
from natures blight.
Tired and restless,
from sleepless night.

Striving for slumber,
weaving a dream.
Finding peace,
from a whispering stream.

Tip your glass to it,
a vessel to fill.
Then you will, like time,
remain ever still.