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winds of sand

 

the wind plays a new tune

the moon whistles back

pitter patter moisture drops

trace pathways down my back

 

the tides time is turning

the levels ebb and flow

the season’s fill with seasoning

around again we go

 

feet drag

and hands hang

swiftness of foot fails

the tracks of humans disappear

tombstones mark our trails

 

come now, let us go

the pace of life moves far too slow

and time and space

it races on,

going nowhere

 

we only see what we can see

especially with eyes closed

our spited face,

is in disgrace

because it has no nose

 

so it matters not

what matters not

and space is all we have

for the gaps between

cannot be seen

it either is, or it is not

 

but in the end it really doesn’t matter

if what it is, is what it’s not

we might as well keep moving on

because it’s all we’ve got

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