Sands of time,
remember when only moonlight flickered on the waves,
and the deer family roamed boundless?

You witness the  madness of our scaling up,
Our beach houses promulgating,
always getting bigger.

Thank you for your silent reminders.
Posession is a mirage,
a false contentment,
and is wiped away
as we always expected.

Meanwhile the yearning
of souls for perfection deafens.
And the ones with many lessons unlearned strut.

Each stretching their necks high
with a frantic quiver in their eye,
and a tranquilizer at hand.

The moon's red face stares down,
turning away.
And sands wait
for the coming of the tide.