As golden sands escaped the shattered glass in which I kept them safe,
I couldn't help but notice as the minutes blurred and turned to days.
I watched as grains would turn to black the wood in which they found their place—
A table once of lively oak had been replaced with one decayed.

And there I stood in perfect silence, soothing lacerated hands,
For I was he who broke the glass and I was he who spilled the sands.