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.
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