Hands of sand

Hands of sand, keep slipping by,
The more you reach out and grab,
The finer the grains that stream through.

I wedge my foot into the crevasse,
But alas, it too was just made of sand,
And I keep free falling down the walls.

And through the ever lasting descent,
Into dark sandy pits of hidden dunes,
I keep searching for hands to break my fall.

And when the sand meanders into your eyes,
The tears dry quick in the sandy banks,
And slowly you evaporate into a sandy mist.

Wading through the raging choking storm of sand,
You feel your hands are of shinning sand too,
And you smile at your Icarian dreams of sand.