A Beacon in Miniature

I set my golden axe securely against the sturdy frame of the side table and stepped closer to a small brass hourglass resting on a dark coaster. Its clear glass bulbs held a steady cone of fine white sand, suspended in quiet equilibrium. Reaching out with my armored gauntlet, I carefully grasped the curved brass pillars and tilted the frame, turning it smoothly upon its axis. A fine, unbroken stream of grains began to fall through the narrow waist, whispering downward like a calm tide. In ancient days, the passage of sand signaled the frantic countdown to breach or defense, but here in the quiet night, it merely marks the gentle unfolding of peace.