Grains of Sand

The sea laps around

Melting the rock I sit on

Watching the horizon

Greedily swallow up the sun

The sand forms outlines of stories below

Each grain a life on earth

This one’s from the shores of Peru

Picked up by a tribesmen

Wondering what to do

And where to go

The land is barren

And his heart too

This one, the shores of Hokkaido

Picked up by a farming man

Who resided in the state of Japan

He picked up the sand

And wondered about the future

Of his plot of land

His family

Melting to the sand

Those grains of sand

picked up by my own hand

I let fall to the sea

From my palm

Where the sand returns

To now known lands

 

 

 

Heaven Made Just For Me

I wish I could say

It’s sure been a full life for me

But my feet aren’t as calloused

As I need them to be

The bags underneath my eyes

Take more and more luggage

Weighing me down with worries

Each passing day

What I really need is a place

That I can be

A heaven made just for me

Seven Days of the Week

The days will run on by us

No eye-contact, single-file

Mile by mile they will pass us

All the while we try to connect

Try to talk to the days that pass

While our flesh wrinkles

And eyes turn to dust

Our bodies, Collasping to the ground

Into heaps of bones

All the seven days stand around us

Wondering where the time went