The visualization of the hourglass whispers quietly as the sands of time fall, like a swollen muddy river after a heavy rainfall, the sands transport down through the channel. In a trance you see the sand descend, and watch as the sand granules begin to build a pillar, a pillar of experience beneath the high upper cloud of hope. Just as a tree falls in the woods, and is then chopped and piled for use as firework. It rests, staked in small sections, a collection of what once a towering triumph of bark and branches. The logs sit ready to provide warmth and support. The sands, they also collect from the high upper cloud and sit one on top of another, converted into a mountainous foundation of strength and support.
This hourglass has become skewed. For the mountain which had slowly rose from the terrain of experience, and sat tall, firm and strong, has now suffered a tectonic plate shift. The sand mountain has collapsed. Where once stood strength, security and confidence is now a mess of melted dreams. Like a chocolate bar that has surrendered to the heat of the sun, the mountain mud now spreads out with no form and no direction. The once light and crystal-like sand grains have formed a dark brown mud stain against the bole of the hourglass. Mount Olympia has disappeared. There are only the moors of despair that bear witness to its once momentous presence. Pockets of plainness with gaps of anguish are surrounded with clumps of brown mud that now form across the bottom of the hourglass.
The hope cloud still reluctantly surrenders grains of sand to the once strong empire of the granules. The grain screams as it falls to the uncertain bottom of the glass. With each raucous cry from the sand grains as they fall hopelessly, the lowermost gets more muddled. The once clear and bright hourglass now sits brown stained and dirty.
As the exchange of space and air continue to occur over the broad spectrum of movement from top to bottom, a shifting occurs. A small osmosis of crystals begin to emerge from the mud and small piles begin to form. There is no longer a glorious peak of shining sand that speaks the word of father time. The dunes of the divine have begun to arise. From the sands of time speaks dunes of destiny. They are reaching for their rightful place among the clouds. The many dunes of diversity have created a sea ravished with brown waves of hope. The moors have closed, the dunes they have it. The glistening sand squeaks out tiny sounds of joy as the dunes grow to become pyramids of power.
What was once a mountain then a moor, a place of despair, has become the Rockies of resilience. From the plains of perseverance arises new hope. The diamonds of sand continue to fall and there is peace in the valleys and there is peace at the peaks of the pyramid’s as well.
As the last few grains of sand get ready to descend into the river of time from the cloud of hope to the new hope below, all the granules of sand reach out and capture a touch of light. Now against the glass and across the sea of pyramid’s , diamonds sparkle, like the sun reflecting against a brilliant glass lake on a most beautiful morning. A concert of sparkle and light to celebrate the transcendence of change. As the last sands fall, there is a newly formed crystal land of sand, signaling the completion of the cycle of time. There becomes a violent eruption that occurs. Like fireworks the sand crystals explode harmoniously, dividing vertically and horizontally, forming a visual cross of crucifixion. As the sand jumps across the air, the hourglass structure breaks and shatters, like a burst of eye squinting lightening, the glass and crystal sand shine brightly together in this dazzling explosion. Father time and the hourglass now meet in the completion of time.