Sands. A poem.

I rise before the first blush of dawn
Dappled sunlight like reedy fingers
Touching the grey surrounds
Blooming refulgent petals
Apprehension in alpha and omega
What fearsome beasts should rise
On wings of measured determination
Cunningly disguised and lividly forthright
Trapped in sundered cogitation
An hourglass of intimation curtailed
Until sands cease to flow
And all begins anew

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