(Un-Anticipated)

How can a gesture erase

                                                           a thousand others

are less than the one                         person

insufficient                                          one

                                                               flawless.

The hand’s caress

                                                           caressing un-draws

figures in the sand                              the cathedrals,

                                                           erected to capture

children playing

distant sounds                                    the awe for God,

now                                                    are now gossamer structures

                                                           floating on the frothy water

The hand holds grains                        towards the indeterminate

It constructs                                        horizon’s alter.

The hand holds onto a grain

like a drowning man out of luck.

                                                           And as he pulls on that speck,

                                                              he unravels his own fabric,

                                                                 for he is made of sand,

                                                                 as much as his castles.

 

That hand’s caress                             unforgettable, unforgiving

Nothing more persists                        nothing more exists

than the downing man’s living:           excess

                                                              of sorrow

of another tomorrow,

                                                           in-between being.