Earth supports and resists,
And fire transforms.
Sand, fashioned by the water for so long,
Begins to flow, and itself become the measure of time.
Dunes like fossilised waves, grow and shift over centuries,
And then in a single storm surge, flattened and reshaped, the hourglass emptied.
An infant child with no sense of time, sits in his infinite moment,
Picking up handfuls of sand, he watches the cascades again and again,
Absorbed, transfixed, in timeless wonder,
He feels the touch of bliss, and sees the universe.
Wind blows the falling sand, sideways across the beach,
Expanding, touching new spaces, then coming to rest.
Distant waves carry it, leaving behind patterns of ripples,
A memory of the water’s flow, remnants of a life.
Warmed by the sun, the beach is transformed,
Across the world and through vast swathes of time, lava flows.
And when the sun wears his mask, and darkness falls,
Still the basalt sand is blown.
Each life leaves its traces,
In footprints in the earth,
In the breath of the wind,
In tears of the bereaved, that flow into the ocean,
And in the heat in the bellies of flies.