Forevour a grain in Space

A drop of sand I be
On the infinite shore
Always I will exist among many

I take on my place,
With the space I displace

Holding my shape
The algorithmic colours,
The Ascending, Descending and spiraling Lines
that compose my shape,
between the pockets of space that forevour lay between the all.

Longing to shift nearer
to close this space.

But with no legs to propel my form,
Constantly I am depending on the motion of others to shift me in my place
So that I may close this space and feel the comfort of a touch.

But every time the gaps between are removed as a result of my own inability to propel my form

I'm left wanting again.

Because it is not in the act of touch I long,
But in the action I Self Perpetuate to propel the Matter with my Force.

The Matter that,
Like a chain link,
Pulls with it the keys that have unlocked my force,

So that when I arrive and make contact
I know that I have retained my form.

Because tho I am but a mere grain in the sands of time,

I know that it is in the totalities of each grains journey
that propel the authenticity in the waves of our collective motion.

So in my individual form I will remain
Humbled and sovereign in this place,

In My Space

No longer will I arrive as a result
Only as a propelled pursuit.