Sieve.

Like sands in the hourglass, time,
Each grain glistens in the light,
Each one, like another grain of regret,
Lost oppurtunity, pessimism takes flight,
When the final piece falls, life is your debt,
Death cares not for good will or crime.

Or each grain allows for some more,
Time is no countdown, tick,
What's left is no concern, tock,
All that you mind is life's next trick,
Enjoy the ride and never mind the clock,
Ignoring the impending doom that we seem to abhor.

And when there's none left, let there be some
Time to reflect, appreciate or regret.
Me? My time here is through,
I stand here a completed man, yet,
It's lonely alone, with naught but this view,
I guess, then, I'll wait for the masses to come.

Until that day, I can only dream,
Where are they now? What do they do?
We'll have much to discuss when they arrive,
Amongst the crowd there must be a few,
For which it is worth my time to stay alive.
I must be insane, or so it would seem.