It is a slow roll.

Glacier creep.

Stone to sand.

Making a mountain

into a beach

one eon at a time.


A billion sins,

if one reflected on


and not each breath

and heartbeat.


Would it be

that we might linger

a little longer

at the threshold,

before we too

were turned

back into dust?


A recollection

of a billion starlights.

A memory

in sand.


HG – 2020

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