Grain of Sand
Hard to describe, about the sanctity of the moment, the nature of development and so forth.
When I was standing by a small lake
as a child, it was summer
and white sheets of light
crossed my face from the sun
like thick rope
through the trees.
I looked at the shoreline,
infantile and miniscule on the other side.
That day, twenty years later is like
an overgrown picture in a children’s book.
That moment, in retrospect was my life,
when the indelible miracle of everything
crossed me in blue infinitude.
Moments we held ourselves to a candle
and folded ourselves, fell through ourselves
and grew to hold our entire lives,
in a grain of sand.
as a child, it was summer
and white sheets of light
crossed my face from the sun
like thick rope
through the trees.
I looked at the shoreline,
infantile and miniscule on the other side.
That day, twenty years later is like
an overgrown picture in a children’s book.
That moment, in retrospect was my life,
when the indelible miracle of everything
crossed me in blue infinitude.
Moments we held ourselves to a candle
and folded ourselves, fell through ourselves
and grew to hold our entire lives,
in a grain of sand.
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