A Trick To It

What can sun do
to brick
that has not already been done?

Time, with circumstance,
shapes the mud and straw heart,
that, still eager for fulfilled promise,
will leap, head last,
toward the nearest oven.

Is it possible,
sun might further harden
that thing,
built of rock broken over eons,
ground to small grains,
mixed with the many tears,
strengthened by dry, fibrous life?

Is the furnace sun
but more ‘love’
seeking to bake
the soul empty?

The trick,

oh my dear friends,

the trick is to remain porous
though hard, insoluble
and

let those eternal, gentle breezes
(which carry the softest sand)
slowly erode you to dust again.