All things turn into ash and dust,
all things crumble away;
there’s a desert growing in my mind,
where all this dust and sand is gathering.
The dry wind runs its fingers through
The hair that falls across my face,
and I can hear the whispered lore
of ancient stones.
Once deep in mountain muscle:
stones to sand
as sand to stone;
as stone will break this body
then will be broken by the sky.
And so the sky moves mountains
and carves valleys in its path;
all grains of sand in shifting dunes
of a world in dynamic equilibrium.
Against the pale cloudless sky,
I watch shapes of creatures slowly rise
before they slowly fall,
their faces wise; in glinting eyes
the distance resembles sadness,
like the eyes of summer
meeting those of autumn.
And like the changing seasons
they see through me.
Look west to the horizon;
Walk away slowly
and fade into sand
sand in colours of feathers
sand in fur
sand in hair
will all be left at the coast.
One day I will follow.
The sun upon my neck and back
is weathering my skin.
the pigment in my eyes will all
drain out into the sky,
as I watch the world
The world is watching me
watch the world
across this space.
The ocean watches mountains rise
and watches mountains fall;
if you can hold it in your hand
it will fade into dust.