Even when we cup our hands A grain is sure to fall So fluid that the oldest sand Seemed never there at all ... As it follows every contour While it barely touches skin It swallows you in encore Till it blows away again ... And the handful soon to follow Will be begging for reprieve As what was held in hollow Bares new meaning to receive... In a lesson life is telling you That somehow is replaced By tested strife compelling to Take you within its brace... To gather all the running sand And watch it blow away Freeing the last in your hand's You know had chose to stay....