The sand and our disturbances

The sand and our disturbances 

Tracing the soft, almost tender ridges in the sand 

They beg me to wonder…

Somewhere at the beginning of time 

Was the sand ever still?

Still without ridges

Without the susurrations of wind 

Unsettling it  

Without the human weight 

Moulding it into soft crests 

Before it shifted with time and displacement 

Was it ever unmoving, 

The closest experience we can ever get to a standstill 

When time doesn’t seem to pass? 

A time 

Where I can watch with my eye upturned 

To an unwavering sun

On an unwavering country 

In an unwavering world 

An omnipresent assurance 

That in a time before human sin,

Before human tarnish 

We would remain just like that

Not perfect

But still 

Not silent 

But at a point of tranquility 

A time 

Will we intertwine our visions

Like the fading autumn leaves,

When gone…when dead

Is the beauty of nature

A time

Will we wander?

But lost means nothing without the distillation of time…

A time

Will we matter?

But to matter…

…To matter is to be the first to bring life to the sand. 

Will you point out the way that I have to force the air out

Swift and hard,

Just to make a dent? 

Will you ridicule the way 

I crouch there at the edge

Desperate to stir the sand

As you manipulate it into eddies

That I blink away

only to be blinded by them again?

Will you laugh at me 

Like all my effort is a joke?

The sand 

And your disturbances.