A foreign plane of wind and sand
A tiny granule cuts my hand
A barren place devoid of life
Peaceful and yet full of strife
The ground hectic the sky clear
Falling sand is all I hear
My personal hourglass
Where my thoughts contrast
The sun has set
The Moon has rose
The cold a threat
As my eyes close
May 14, 2010
May 14, 2010 at 12:27 PM UTC
A foreign plane of wind and sand
A tiny granule cuts my hand
A barren place devoid of life
Peaceful and yet full of strife
The ground hectic the sky clear
Falling sand is all I hear
My personal hourglass
Where my thoughts contrast
The sun has set
The Moon has rose
The cold a threat
As my eyes close
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