Guileless Hands

A breeze has no purpose
no desires
and no needs
just a vaguely drifting impact
in the rustling of leaves

The waves have no meaning
no questions asked, no pleas
but the rocks that it crumbles
fill an endless sea

And a person has no focus
no matter what they say
just the endless march of action
surplus words
and thoughtless days

But through those abstract notions
those sundry grains of sand
a new world is emerging
from our ever guileless hands

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