Running Sand

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....