And ain't this the nature, of this friable heart,
To sigh yet beat, even if it lays torn apart?
Pick up those shards, one could try,
But slips though my fingers is just some sand dry.
Ain't this the nature of the fragile I?
And ain't this the nature, of that stranger wind,
To wear away the shreds, the existence rescind.
And to carry those pieces, till it would like to play,
Then dump 'em bluntly, and call it a day?
Ain't this the nature of the alien you?
And spread on the shore are all such pieces;
Deluged and invisible, till the tide decreases.
And playing with 'em, people, one can find;
Takes just a few drops, for this sand to bind.
Ain't this the nature of the heart' sand?
