The Wind Weaves

the wind weaves
lazy trails
along the sand
its touch light
transient
as the golden threads
of dust
swirl and move
restless
the fine line
of scatter
brief, its scan
nebulous
the imprint of
the wind's hand
never lasts
and  ours
we  press to
concrete
erect glass
believing in forever
then disappear
before we  see
them
fall down
our  dreams
demolished
so  much  rubble
to attest to
our  passing
so  much
power
outwith
ours
outlasts
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