Sand.

You’ll have it for a while,
For the briefest time,
For the slowest seconds
That the sand touches your hands,
And escape their gaps
Right before you close them–
Right before you see
That it’s not there to stay,
Not for eternity,
Neither for all of its time,
And most especially nor yours.

It’ll haunt you for a while,
Why you lose what you adore,
To gain something you’d wonder,
“Is this more?”
But you know it isn’t so,
It never will.
Not for something that’s dead to begin with,
Not for something whose start already ended.

It’ll kill you for a while,
Why you cannot get what you give,
Why you cannot give what you receive,
Not because you want to,
But because your conscience tell you,
This isn’t so.
Because it isn’t the balance of the world,
Not where the universe rests.
…but the universe never rests!
And perhaps this is so,
The cycle.

But it cannot be.
Not yet.
I’m willing.
To wait it out.
For something to happen.
In its own time.
But what I know.
It isn’t now.

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