In the sands of time,
the red beat,
almost at the end,
of this end.

For not wanting to see .....
What else will be lost?
By those hands ....
What else have you not touched?

There is a horizon,
There,
all around,
the summits of life.

Of the event,
of those hands,
the power to see from behind,
and contemplate the infinite.

I would like a more flowery dress,
and some less sinister clouds .....