Hourglass of the Wind

In the nameless alleys of the invisible city,
the hourglass of wind pours sand of time.
Lost footsteps dissolve in a breath of stone,
and the echo, timidly, measures what is unseen.
Each grain is a window closed upon the dawn,
every current tells of streets that do not exist.
The hourglass continues to count them, slow breath,
until the air reveals the face of who is not there.