All the time, sands are whispering:
rattlesnakes, scorpions, and mice often take heed.
Most humans, however, are too arrogant to listen.
Will bulldozers, blasting caps, and machines
ultimately rule how landscapes appear?
Aren't most humans in an endless struggle against entropy?
Granules of feldspar, basalt, calcite,
and quartz are infinitely patient however.
Eventually all things in this planet
get covered with layers of dust.
Tiny sand grains seem insignificant,
yet ironically the tiniest things ultimately win
