Wait for it

I held the last minutes in my hand, opened wide, and

showered the ground below with my timeless zeal.

Here in the motionless lake

we steal one last grain of sand

in the sand storm.

Is this all there is, replete with big screens

and temptations of rock stardom?

Plate after plate passes, and we tithe our

guilt to the summoner, bury our hands in

our common power to pray.

I held the last days in my heart, shuttled

here by the wind off the mainsail.

This is it, mentored by some force catapulted

from red clay and generous headwaters.

I held on. I held out for more.

I held out for more and nothing came

through the door.