The sand caster

He strides across silent night skies atop a passing cloud,
Casting sand upon the land below without a whisper loud
He rides upon the path of light thrown by the pale green moon,
To weave his spell and deliver from suffering they who despair too soon

Day merges into night that calls forth unspoken dreams,
Dreams turn into mist that disappears with the dawn’s cruel beams
Yet each night he strides the clouds and casts his softest sands,
Sands that bring sleep and sweetest dreams from his gracious hand
Dreams are a gentle wind that caresses the weary each night,
Yet dreams too are sand that suffuses with relentless might
Sands that while asleep cause us merciful escape in dreaming,
But when awake cause parched throats and a burning insatiable wanting

Yet each night he rides upon the path of pale moonlight,
And curses each time he casts his sand while beyond the dreamers’ sight
Each day he fades away alone only to appear too soon,
Called forth by timorous hopes that surface only with the moon

The sand caster