Thursday, August 23, 2007

Slipping away, like holding water in my fingers

Little pieces of sand and rock
every grain in place
A wall rising imperceptibly

Can you see the house we're building?
Can you feel the story we're writing?
Though every day is a fragment of a single character
Still, the story goes ever on.

Even the spaces serve their role
between the sand, between the words.
Still we're ever moving onward
Rest your heart, and let us keep on.

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