11×14 inch print of original oil painting titled ‘Sands of Time’ - archival paper

The tighter I grip my hands
around the smooth neck of time,
the faster sand slips through my fingers.
The more rigidly I stand
against the crashing waves,
the faster I am washed away.

So I let go

I soften and loosen
and play with the illusion
There is no rush,
Beginning, middle or end
I let myself melt,
and seep into the sand

And before you know it,
I am flying.