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Sand Alone

 Thousands of people, millions, then more as more have waited. They cared to exchange one for one, as if one were not the entire haul. Their place remains as sand, stories, additional sand, stories of sand, peopled sand, sand people, and just sand. The lord arranging this created ineffable as a function for dilation and emancipation. Are we not rocks at heart? Rocks were meant to say more by handsful of weight and mass, sand is just the proper easing encumbrance. Mass introduces a wider world, where impact and resonance pulse heavy and light. Even light grows heavy in its strokes of passage. Something said now remains said, the ever faithful sand. The saying remains in the buckling sand underfoot. More can be made less but sand endures.

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