So much passion altering from feeling to sensations,
measuring the seas with the concavities of rugged, unsculpted rocks.
In the bed that coarse sieves the brutes to the perfect curvature of sands
Endlessly trying to sculpt water.
Solid parroting fluid,
soft enough to pass through the throat of an hourglass
to sculpt the time
to cement in an equiponderant stone.
Time
is to give human touch to the paths.
variety is the texture of space.
