I can feel you slipping away from me like sand cupped in my hands.  
no matter how hard i try, it finds a way, a path, an escape, spilling from the 
cracks    
my hands can't    
hide       
is this something i did, or something caused by time?  
maybe it was meant to happen and i never had a chance at stopping it.  
do you feel the sand slipping away, too?  
i desperately tried to stop it, but look where that got me         
now i wonder –  
would it be better to open my hands, to let go, to brush off the sand, than to stay here stuck in this futile task until there's only the last grain of sand?