GRAFFITI

Up from the sands,
She rises..

Not from the sand hill I built
At the waves’ target,
Not the sands that send storms
That come and go and we forget,
Not the vast spread of desert sand
With a beginning and end to even that vastness,
Not the sands stolen and cumulated
To rise buildings skyhigh yet with finiteness..

But, from the sands of..

..Time..

Why call it sands?
Cos time formed the sand clock,
Or vice versa..?

Whatever..

She rises,
From the sands of time..
The vast, the infinite,
The unforgettable, the target evader,
Time…

Time flows
And travels,
Endures life,
Evades death,
Races all parallel, but one..

It has a companion in its journey,
A fellow traveler,
A parallel…

She,
Whose birth is unknown,
Whose death is impossible,
But whose existence is hidden,
And so she joins with time,
To move and keep herself going,
Handed over from generation to generation,
With mocking continuity,
Frightening timidity,
Lightening ability, when revealed,
But a tightening rigidity, when veiled…


She is…

..Truth…