If you were to become sand,
I would not be just some hands.
Not even another mortal homeland.
I will become time, I will weather and stand.
But if you were to become an island,
I would not be just some beach or sands.
Not even a firefly or a wasp that lands.
I will become a tree that withstands.
Or if you will be the time, I will be a tree.
Together in our tiny little island,
we will be gleaming and free,
we will be holding hands.