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.
H.C.A Agate 