Piles of Grains of Sand

Piles of Grains of Sand

A Poem by Tyler

Along the city’s second longest street
At the end of its second longest month
Walked a woman, in plaid,
Lugging an incongruous antique lamp
Toward the sun.

In the desert, the dunes,
The piles of grains of sand,
Are constantly rearranged, 
Redistributed, reconciled by the winds--
Are, in short, in flux--
Are never what they once were, 
And never will be again.

When the wind’s favor, for a while,
Aggrandizes a particular pile,
Does it look down upon its fellows?
Does it call itself a king, and proclaim, 
“Bow before me, for I am the mightiest, 
The grainiest, the sandiest
Of all possible piles of grains of sand;
For I have, I am more of nothing
Than you will ever understand”?

© 2013 Tyler

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Added on August 2, 2013
Last Updated on August 2, 2013
Tags: Sand, Lamp, Desert, July



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A Poem by Tyler