Let us count the sandgrains on the beach.
We know little, daily less,
And if I reach
For your hand,
It will slip like sand
Through my weeping fingers.
As we grow, we regress.

For why else would we weep but keep
The salt sea locked away?
An empty hand,
A barren strand,
Where no sandcastles play.

For castles
Are too dry a dream,
So dream we not at all;
And sit is all we do, and wait,
For running, we might fall.

No sea, see we,
But salt and sand,
Stretching, stretching,
Far
And
Bland,
Our blanket to eternity.

by Alashiya Gourdes