This sand

This is my home, this ground, this wet soil.
Why did I ever think to upturn my roots in the hope of gaining higher ground,
that is, for the fear of losing ground?
Ironic that.

When did I leave the depths to lie face down on the hard parched surface?

When did I decide that the thing to do was to roll over, never look down and instead lift my gaze in the name of aiming for the stars?
Now doesn’t that sound grand.

How did I forget that I don’t need to check up on the sun?
Some say she knows her burning act.

The devil is in the details or is the devil in the dust?

Water this sand with tears and sink.
Away from the stars, away from stardom, don’t blink, don’t think.
Inc. Inc. Bling. Ing.