I stumbled out into the light only to find an empty space
Under my bare feet lay the sands of time, now cold and stagnant
I stooped to scoop a handful, the gristle of eternity scattered around my ankles
In my bare palm the grains etched long-lost constellations 
The sand was heavy and dark, my wrist bent as the back of a washerwoman
I brought a granule closer to my frozen eye, growing larger and larger while my lashes stood
Unblinking
Unblinking
And then that piece of sand was a church bell, corroded and rusted, cracked, missing a ringer, but still a church bell
And then all the sand was church bells and they shifted when I walked and I couldn't hear their pealing but I could feel it beneath my bones
So I ran
Every step shoving aside, displacing church bells
Every step shaking some skeleton that was not mine anymore