Copyright © 2000 Benjamin A. Shelton
This poem is part of a collection of very old poems I wrote when I was fairly young. As a result, the vocabulary and general tone of the poem may not be up to par with many of my newer works.
The clouds are still today,
Their winds are calm.
The jewels of stars are shrouded,
And the sun is blanketed in fog.
Even the moon cannot shine through,
For the clouds are thick and unmoving.
But the winds of time are ever-moving,
And the sands will never stop.
I sometimes find myself in constant awe,
Watching as the sands shift and change–
The grains caught in a vast sea of similarities–
What is it, I wonder,
That makes us like these sands?
For we are all the same,
And we are all different.
But never do we focus on similarities–
What if the clouds could change direction?
And what if we too could become the sands?
Would we travel vast distances together,
Shifting and changing and shaping the world?
Or would we depart like a single grain upon the wind,
To be swallowed by the sea?
Yet the clouds are still today,
Unmoving and unchanging.
And the grains of sands are still shifting,
Never ceasing their ways.
For sand will work as one,
To reclaim the land.
But what, I wonder,
If we were to become as sand?
To change the direction of the wind?
To change the world is not a small task,
Nor is it as simple as following the tides.
For we, like the grains of sand,
Are trapped in the sea of wind,
Never to flow against it.
But at some point, one will have to rise,
And take a stand against the wind.
For only together can the world change.
But care must be taken when choosing the path,
For false winds can take false directions,
And create violent storms.
It is said that one will rise to unite the world,
With only the intention of evil,
Blowing forth false winds from his mouth.
These are the troubles that await us all,
And only through faith will we see.
For in trouble times, the winds grow strong,
And our sands scatter.
Even the clouds cannot stand in times of peril,
For their great towers too can topple.
But the clouds are still today,
And the winds are calm.
Even the skies seem smooth as a glassy lake,
Never churning or moving.
Yet, even in calm can there exist false security,
And the winds can start again.
As I look up today, I see the clouds above,
And the clouds remain still today.
Even the grains of sand have taken a rest,
Piled above each other, they wait:
They wait for the winds to start again,
And their never-ending journey to resume.