Immeasurable are the inevitable deserts
resulting from the dissipated dreams
that, like drafts, have slipped between the seams
of the opaque pained panes.
These grains, only to be lifted in the shifting winds
and drifted off indiscernibly
to the place where hope begins and ends.
Not where they were intended to be
but landing instead where none can see,
forgotten and faded in obscurity.