sand

the wind blows weakly ripples form on the surface of the sea
the ripples reflect moments in time, in space
i move among them displacing old patterns
rip currents pull me outwards
yet i resist
a singularity distorting the continuum

floating on the sea surface,
i observe waves breaking on the shore
a lesson on futility embedded in the past,
dredged out to me

peering through the depths,
i discern in outline the shape of the world
the pattern is elusive and my vision is limited

i think of sand
like hope
no matter how much it slips away,
you can always grab another handful.