Learning to Disappear

                        They say there is a Buddha 
                        In each grain of sand 

We begin huge and rigid. Life grinds 
away at us. We grind against one another.
Lichen acids eat our flesh, crack and split
our surfaces. We tumble downstream 
to the sea that spits us back 
onto shore. We want to be big 
and beautiful, forming deltas, 
alluvial fans. Even in sleep 
we create delta waves and 
rhythms in our brains. 
But life has other plans. 
Our destiny, so small 
the wind can lift us, 
drift us back into 
cracks in drains, 
seams in sidewalks, 
so small we end 
in crescent 
corners of 
each 
other’s 
eyes.