The golden sunset gleamed across,
the shimmering scattered waves,
The clouds as sun dipped cotton floss,
spread out like heaven's eaves.

But my sight could not this beauty hold,
My gaze was downward cast,
Reading in sand, the story told,
by footprints from the past.

The seagulls lofted overhead,
a cool breeze gently blew.
Yet even that which heaven'd made,
could not distract me true.

For the dirt I tread beneath my feet,
each particle of sand,
Drew curious study as I bid,
the grains flow through my hand.

Perhaps in this short pointless story,
there's one lesson we should keep:
The parts never attest in glory,
what the whole doth boast in meek.

For now I finally understand,
why beauty stayed out of reach,
I lived life pondering grains of sand,
and never saw the beach.