Sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating, and it gets everywhere...so do we.
In the beginning, there was only sand. Sand turned to stone. Stone became civilization. In the end, just as the beginning, there will be only sand. Held with an open hand, sand remains where it is. Close your hand into a fist, and sand trickles through your fingers. You may hold on to some of it, but most will be spilled. A single grain of sand is anonymous and insignificant, but it only takes one grain of sand to erode rock and bring down a mountain. If you watch the flowing sand, you might see time itself riding the granules. If you watch the sandstorm, you might see us riding it over the dunes.
Sand is here, sand is there I get sand everywhere. In my cloak, it’s tucked away. I know sand is here to stay. Sand is warm and sand is dry. I’ll sleep in sand when I die.