Strands

Where stands windblown strands of sand drawn,
Lifted from these crags hard, splintered by water ice;
Formidable, huge with ache upon the blasted heath of hope.
Wreathed in mist, clouds merge to soften edges,
To merge surfaces of the real to transform vapour into solid;
So remain in memory bright, may draw internal light, thus fired,
Salmon scaled, there is nought to take their weight.
No reference point endures to chart,
Swirls on hope of landfall of sure repose.
All is shifting sand down millenia weightless as clouds.