a fistful of sand

a fistful of sand

The waves spilled the rising tide 

back into the scattered footprints in the sand

deeply entrenched in life’s mystery,

receding into every breaking wave

A stiff sea breeze put back every grain of sand,

elements of a larger object gathers,

gravity firmed, into the silent shoreline chasms—

the beheld essence washed out to sea 

by the fugitive tides and retreating sea-foam

Soon all trodden traces visibly vanish;

unmarked mileposts on a metaphysical pathway 

slip away back to a windswept shoreline 

and elapsing summer tide

Seabirds glide in slow-motion, 

held sway into the shapeless gusts — 

as if feathered puppets hovering,

hanging from the rafters 

of the burgeoning orange sky

There's an uncommon peace in the renaissance; 

effervescent crisp ocean air filling in 

the indefinable emptiness

marooned within each heartbeat’s echo

Each new breath inhaled, disappearing within

the unhealed hollow of every thing once believed; 

fully aware this life is unholdable as time,

yet feeling many things deeply retained

in each passing moment— 

slipping away like a handful of sand

sifting through all these hands once held

Presence becoming wreathed in a miasma of stillness,

space that levitates like an unpredictable fog 

that seeps into the gnawing voids 

of an unsated hunger

harlon rivers ... August 1st, 2018  ©

Note: ' a fistful of sand '

The title comes from thinking about how we sometimes try and mold/shape/influence that which is unholdable... ' a fistful of dry sand ' is forever shapeless as the wind...

Getting away from my ordinary life maze seems to be changing perspective; moments still unfold as they are intended but there is less peripheral distraction, more focus on the simple things that enrich life in the moment.