The Hourglass Door

The Hourglass Door

Beneath the dust where hours sleep,
The door is buried, cold and deep.
No lock, no key, no hand, no flame—
Yet still it waits and speaks your name.

Turn not away when time stands still,
For silence bends to sovereign will.
The past and future, torn and twined—
Are echoes carved in your own mind.

A child of stars, a blade of breath,
Will walk the bridge ‘twixt life and death.
Not to rule, and not to flee—
But to become what none can see.

Three signs shall mark the shadow’s rise:
A red eclipse, a well that dries,
A name once lost returns once more—
And knocks upon the hourglass door.

Turn not away when time stands still,
For silence bends to sovereign will.
Step through the sands, become the flame—
And know yourself beyond your name.

You are not late.
You are exactly when the world needs you to be.