Hevel. All is sand slipping through the fingers of my hand
Hevel
All is sand slipping through the fingers of my hand
On an aluminum horse I ride
My kin in stride just behind
My star lying down to rest
Magnificent light, red and orange
Teeming in the expanse to the west
The sky full of color is hazy
The air, full of dust, sweet and musky
The field's bounty being collected
Machines and men make the labor effective
Beauty it was, just for a moment.
Then sand, slipping through the fingers of my hand.
Grasp, grasp, and fight with all my might
Gone is my delight
Retaining beauty and joy is vain.
Always here is some new form, but always passing away
Posted Dec 31, 2022, 6:58 AM UTC
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