Serai Sands
A decade slips by
A millennium approaches
And we return
To search for new Serais
For blinded and stunned travellers…
Collectors of treasure boxes…
Each grain taken away, one by one
Till there is just one left
In some hidden crack of an old, empty box
Alone…
Waiting for others…
Precious grain of sand…
To be collected by those who will replace
These dark strands of hair turning silver…
To create oceans of sand in cold, foreign lands…
To sleep in sparsely furnished
Rooms of desert Serais
To melt stones, to chill bones…
To play to empty halls..
To love on streets and stage…
To churn words into editorials…
To write histories..
To play tunes to words
For almost nothing…
To collect…
A few more grains of sand..
And to pass on
To yet another Serai
