wind picks up slowly
can’t see two feet in front of me
is it possibly the wind will come and scatter me?
and why do i feel
that i’m losing a part of me?
i cannot seem to hold these pieces’ integrity

all my life, i’ve been searching for something
trying just to hold wind-blown sand between my fingers
all these things are so cold and so empty
the wind blows it all from my hands

i’m a child of dust
i hold in my hands, all that i can, all that i am
the wind blows me away
until there’s nothing here - until there’s nothing here

all i’m offered are
things that burn up so easily
sticks and ashes that come back to devour me
so, why can’t i give You
these gods that are ruling me?
i hold so tight to that which You took so willingly