The Sand Book

…Thy rope of sands…

(Inspired by "the sand book" Jorge Luis Borges)

A Sacred statuette looks at me
With mighty power she leads me to sin
Do I really have the strength to carry on with my beliefs?

I glance at the fields as I walk down the hill
I have nothing to keep me gripped
Should I leave this pagan scene?

Present does not admit remorse!
I hear her deep voice shouting at me

Where am I anyway?
Was she blessed with eternal graciousness?
Or this is just a praiseworthy dream?

As I rest my feet in the cold sand
She reminds me the end is near
And that this bright rope of sands
Is not here to resist

And like George Herbert once said:
“Why though my body runs to dust?
Faith cleaves unto it, counting every grain,
With an exact and most particular trust,
Reserving all for flesh again”

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