” My way is like the sand flowing
between the shingle and the dune”
The sand it flows on the seashore
Here today, but for how long?
He who says the sands of life
Never change: he is wrong
Sure they may look the same
As they did here yesterday
But flowing waves and blowing winds
Have moved more on, and some away.
And my way, it is as Beckett wrote
Is like sand and shingle flowing from the dune
Blown hard by the winds of life
Caressed by lifes tides as they dance in accordance with the moon.