The potential energy of youth resides in the sands yet fallen through the concavity of the hourglass—the nexus of the present. The grains to be defined, fallow but with a fertile promise, stand high and with greater weight than those settled below. There is an inherent envy, a longing of discontent, from those slipping further and further away from the present: contributing to an increasingly solid, concrete—unchanging and forgotten—set of facts. Any guise of non-static nature stems from the willing of the present to develop a sturdier landing—an apocryphal foundation. The sands of the lower vessel are held in a tripartite captivity by the confines of its walls, the piling of the ever-accumulating new presents, and the higher realm’s purview of reconfiguration. As the higher vessel’s numbers decrease, the weight of those yet to fall increases: exponentiated by the desperate helplessness below and declining determinism remaining above.