Sitting in this dull conforming sand.
Strength to move dried up through generations
And vision blurred,
I wait and watch the sand cover my legs.

At times I have tried to move—
A voice said "Beauty"
I heard a trumpet note breathe "Life"
A dim face seemed goodness
And some printed words glowed truth.
Each time I walked a little way towards
Where I thought they were,
But the voice was silent and the face turned away.