sandman stands in the desert
like Lot’s wife in a salt sea
surverying the wild waste
knowing they are the same
pray the cool breath-borne breeze
washes over gritty brow
to carry the worried world away
one
grain
at
a
time
lost on the wind
a ghost trailing into the sky
yearning to go away away
returned to the deep red clay
to sleep till the final day
returned to the deep red clay
to sleep till the final day
Harnessing Chaos 
Excellent! Brings to mind an old song from the baptist hymnals, "Holy Spirt breathe on me". Love your last verse.
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I will have to come visit you some day…I so greatly apreciate your comments.
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