Black Sands

A pathless, baron land, Home to pebbles, rocks and black sand, Confronted by whistling of a band, A sway of melodies by instruments untouched by any hand, As the tumbles and rumbles get louder, A sight of an unfortunate event, Such comfort and warmth wearing thin, Coldness envelopes us to our brim, There is nothing prouder, Than the unwillingness to be hand in hand, These howling notes pierced my bare skin, As I stood beside a redundant relic while in sand it sinks, An unknowing dance shoved me into motion, No pause, No rest, Distant clouds trances me towards the Ocean, Where faint cymbals crash, A pathless return, Making out the way with previous depressions, With every step into the sand, the cold withered into each impression, Leading me home, an invisible attraction. 10th August 2016