Thursday, 17 November 2016

Fistful of sand

Blow gently over these sands today
I laid these out carefully, one palm
to another, hours poured out in imperfect 
Synch, a few grains more, a few less

I shaped these stories right here today
Embellished in could-have-been-pearls
Broken figments bound to wet sands
Your story and mine with so many others

Powdered moonlight swells wavelets
of unabashed desire today. Dear moon, 
stay back and curve gently over the clouds
Time is only measured out by the sun, after all

On ancient shores of an ageless thirst, I ask of you 
A will to seek, beyond hours, years and ages
Secret deaths and silent resurrections,
One hundred moons in a fistfull of sand




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