An hourglass doesn't tell the time. It is merely a witness, silently watching the grains of sand tumbling away into a mirage they call an oasis. As they rush towards the other bulb and long for a place to settle down, the hourglass turns upside down.

But the hourglass never controls the flow of time. Never plugging the flow of memories, it merely watches on, stuck in a quandary of half-full and half-empty wishes.

These poems reflect the constant search for a home. The indefinite futility of my search is what I have tried to capture, either through people or places.

Just like the sands that never settle, I continue my long journey for a hopeful "tomorrow". Even if the hourglass turns, I shall keep looking for my oasis - a place I can call home.