Handful of Sand
I reached, grabbed for a fistful of sand
wistfully laughing, gracefully careless grains are she
but longing more only left them drifting from hand
Her effortless sway of heartless disdain sleighs me
The hopelessness that goes with this....
...is rivaled by its own bitter bliss
for every pain endured may persist,
but surely cured with that venomous kiss
Never is passion all woe and despair
Desire is reward in its own sweet self
For to live is to feel, knowing feelings are there
so wanting and having is the essence of wealth
Embracing the sand, held gently cupped hands
learning to grasp not, forgoing tight grip
Fate is just that what time will demand
These grains, even if slowly, still slip.
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