The sand in the Wind

If you are able to tell me that you have lived a life whereby you managed to let things go and convince yourself that things are merely transistory and on the strength of that you let go, tell me

You ask why I grief, for things that are seen
For are they not merely, sand in the wind
Whilst your eyes see them, dancing in the air,
The next moment you blink, no longer there

You ask why I grief, for things that have been
For are they not merely, sand in the wind
You grip them so tightly, with hands so firm
But into the waves some escape, never to return

Yes I know, of sand in the wind
As they enter my eyes and made me wince
The sand in my eyes, made me cry,
As the hands that rub, try endlessly to pry

Yes I know, of sand in the wind
As the pain in my eyes, refuses to let me die
How I wished then, that I were blind,
That I would never have seen, the sand so fine

The sand in the wind, so fleeting and free
Yet the pain in my eyes, too much to believe
The grief in my soul, my tears do hint
And this is but merely, the sand in the wind

The sand in the wind