They were lying
On the edge of the world.

Sleepy eyes full of the sea
Curling all around them,
Freezing their toes with icy water.

Hands full of sand,
Like quicksilver falling

Grain by grain,
Changing the shape
Of their own particular future.

With no knowledge
Of the power of love.

No fear
Of its chameleon changing.

That what is so named,
Has nameless identities.

©2021 Gwen Grant

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