KF (28/08/79 / Wroughton, Wiltshire)

The Sands Of Time

A clenched fist I cannot hold anymore,
Yet if I open my hand, sand seeps to the floor.
My grasp is weak, it used to be tight,
But Time has fed fast, draining all might.
Blowing away grains of sand that I hold,
With just a slight gust it splinters my mould,
Cracking me open so out my being does pour,
Stripping me down, exposing my core.
My soul only is left; all history's been stripped,
From the spine of my skull my life has been ripped.
Time is a thief, taking grains one by one,
Whilst building its past, me it leaves none.
I see beaches before me, but Time moves on fast,
It preys quickly behind so nothing can last.
As a single wave washes a castle away,
Or the shapes of dunes are changed in a day,
Sand needs structure, but Time cannot seal,
It knows only to chase, to break and to steal.

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