Sands of Creation

Grains of sand do slide belowEven though no winds yet blowA sea of dryness, rupturingAnd waves of roughness faintly clingBut as the song of strength runs nighA shape forms itself in a dune so highFirst, the head of creature bornThen the torso elemental, forlornTremors unseen, faked but much feltAnd the beast pitiless, grittily kneltWhat doth raise his soul to stand?Is it courage, or heart, or less quicksand?Or does love have power where hate thrives too,So revenge gives stamina to battle foes as foes doThe man lurches up from swirling depths, Gasping in exaggerated breaths His destiny and renaissance renewed -His gait is quicker, and mind is less construed.