The Sands
8-18-94

Please tell me -- what is this
Emotion that rips through my heart?
Is it possible to feel frozen as ice,
Yet flowing as a trickling river?
How can I explain that I feel sunshine
When I look at the moon?

Small raindrops begin to punctuate
The sands of my imagined joy.
My iceberg forms, but can be melted
By no one but him -- my desire's fire.
His flames leap to consume my soul,
Yet they die and leave me as ashes.

These feelings compare to nothing but
The billowing, scorched, desert sands.
They are ripped up by a harsh breeze
And each sliver strewn in a desolate land.
They are taken again to reach up and up,
But are dropped violently back to earth.

Each emotion can never quite reach the sun,
For the lonely moon is my only companion.
I am ruled and washed out by her darkness,
Never to know the heat and fire of the sun.
Only he can build my heaven here on earth,
But, alas, he was taken away on the sands.


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