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Grains

The grains I think upon lose their colour,
Fighting chess breaks bones bigger,
Then even the days and nights look longer
Than the rest of the years.
May grains collect to ruin the fire of glass,
Glass can see me, glass can be.
The grains of my grandfather clock
Tick on like time, with a wonderful flavour.
I consume a centurion with open jaws
As its passage is at worry.
I even wanted to think upon a matter
That needed a spell of happiness.
Sand has been experienced by the lame,
Living inside me, like the grasped souls.

© Naveed Akram