I stare at the waves touching my feet. They wash away small shells from the blue depths. In a trance I take a handful of sand and watch it slip away. Grain by grain it leaves my hand as if it were never there. The tighter I hold on to it, the more it escapes. It keeps slipping till there is nothing left in my palm. Empty as it were a while ago. The sand is back to where it belongs and I have my palms stretched, miserable and empty. Where is everything that I thought was mine? Slipped away?
Daniel Kemp’s Books