Sand Dune

we wish we were a sand dune a great beast of tiny rocks
pre-eroded in the wind and sun.
we would make our way — millimeter by neverending millimeter —
sandfish swimming in our belly metallic ants crawling on our skin
snakes and tiny rodents and strange insects ephemeral in the heat haze — brief 
—
to sink into the ocean and eventually find our rest
settling as close as we could to the heart of Ur throbbing raging plasmoid deep and heavy below us and we would rest.
Cold underneath the benthic depths blackness and silt and mud would cover us up and we would sink
through it all a diffuse mass toward a point unreachable an inverted Sisyphean approach hampered by
simple muck and crust and magma:
Matter. in a word, ourself.
nothing so structural as Light
no body as particulate as ours