A handful of red sand, from the hot clime
Of Arab deserts brought,
Within this glass becomes the spy of Time,
The minister of Thought.
How many weary centuries has it been
About those deserts blown!
How many strange vicissitudes has seen,
How many histories known!
 |
| Camel Caravan |
Perhaps the camels of the Ishmaelite
Trampled and passed it o'er,
When into Egypt from the patriarch's sight
His favorite son they bore.
Perhaps the feet of Moses, burnt and bare,
Crushed it beneath their tread;
Or Pharaoh's flashing wheels into the air
Scattered it as they sped;
Or Mary, with the Christ of Nazareth
Held close in her caress,
Whose pilgrimage of hope and love and faith
Illumed the wilderness;
 |
| Palm Trees at En Gedi (Engaddi) |
Or anchorites beneath Engaddi's palms
Pacing the Dead Sea beach,
And singing slow their old Armenian psalms
In half-articulate speech;
 |
| Dead Sea Beach |
Or caravans,
that from Bassora's gate
With westward steps depart;
Or Mecca's
pilgrims, confident of Fate,
And resolute in heart!
 |
| Mecca |
Now in this crystal tower
Imprisoned
by some curious hand at last,
It counts the passing hour,
And as I
gaze, these narrow walls expand;
Before my dreamy eye
Stretches
the desert with its shifting sand,
Its unimpeded sky.
And borne
aloft by the sustaining blast,
This little golden thread
Dilates into
a column high and vast,
A form of fear and dread.
And onward,
and across the setting sun,
Across the boundless plain,
The column
and its broader shadow run,
Till thought pursues in vain.
The vision
vanishes! These walls again
Shut out the lurid sun,
Shut out the
hot, immeasurable plain;
The half-hour's sand is run!
 |
| Hourglass Sunset, 2009, Bluesbandit Photo |
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I often come back to this poem because it reminds me that no matter where we are, who we are, what we do.... someone has come before us, walked on the path we are on, seen the sights we have seen, tried something we are learning, and made their mark - slight or grand on this world.... All marks on the world matter.... the slightest of marks in the sands of time may one day prove to have the greatest of impact on humanity. ~ Fred
