67. desert exodus

cast your mind back, if you can,

when the world was naught but sand,

(not so sure there was this time, but

it might be soon with global warming)

sand is made of particles,

some are big, some are smaller,

they move with wind, and from friction

(sometimes, maybe, through erosion)

so, to get down to the story,

sand (this guy) was a moses

(his actual name, much or more),

led some sands from some shore

much or more, a stoutish fella,

had ideas, emancipation

of one brand of silicate

from the broader dirty bits

he made a pact with the wind,

if he got them out of this,

he (the sand) would do some things

(i don’t know, roll or spin)

(there isn’t, really, honestly,

a whole lot now a sand can promise —

all they do is sit and move,

sometimes form themselves in dunes)

promised plagues and promised frogs,

lo, behold, they came along

(not exactly in these forms,

just as snakes and horny toads)

then the day, at last, arrived,

a storm, a wind, a blow, a blight,

much or more (and disciples),

took their things, and took to flight

took, then, to the stratosphere,

were blown across the continent,

settled down, some time later,

on another sandy crater

here we come to the climax,

the miracle, the party pass,

commanded them, these ravines,

make the way for these glass beads

again the wind came to their aid

(again, there’s just no other way),

blew a cleft between the dunes,

that they duly trundled through

now, alas, it all gets maudlin,

now they’d reached their promised land —

even after all that jazz,

everything was still just sand

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