Sand The Word, the waving of His hand made Nothingness come to an end. When Time rose from Eternity in light of purest energy the stars were born, and then - the sand. Sand, the grains of crumbling stone Elements playing on their own before life came, and beasts gave birth, treading on a younger earth and, dying, left their withered bone. The cycle, as it turned again saw in its wake the birth of men; children playing with the grains and sandstorms on the windswept plains - who knows whenever it began. This endless cycle, on it goes through weathering and heavy throes, and when the rocks become the sand they shape the mountains and the land and form the grains between my toes. There is no place on sea or land without a billion grains of sand. When we are gone, a distant sound, the Universe is still around and Time still trickles from God's hand.                                 L.M.