I’d like to own a piece of me
That hasn’t, nor will ever wear the sky
Again, and in its loneliness could win
The favour of Eternity.
But vanity can never serve
Me or support this selfish yearning here
Within this perfect world that to defy
Would surely be beyond my nerve.
This body and its occupants
By Earth are petrified in stone, and skin,
Engrained far deeper than a human width,
Can grasp no other Elements.
My pieces are the slaves of man
So I can seldom anger at my hands
And I am never lonely when I stand
To blame my failures on the sands.
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Submission Name: The Sands
