The Sands of Time

Fine grains of sand o’re the dessert blow Falling from cliffs to the rocks it flows Cascading in streams like a waterfall Making their way to the ground below. A rust colored scene of constant change As the earth moves sand, grain by grain Picked up by the winds from far below And carried back up to begin again. The grains, as if moments of our lives Flowing thru the hourglass of our time Sometimes blocked, but always shifting And carried back up to begin again.