Closed parliamentary hand

Words whisper like sand

In the grains they drop

False wisdom makes a stop,

In the center of reality

Spinning quilts into questions

Asking meanings of words unknown

Flown in from imagination,

Living atop the resting willow

Whips hang in slouching shoulders

Continuing the search into the sand

Sifting arrowheads in one hand,

Clap the beat of a jungle in midst

Cry rain in the forest of wonder

Inside is the world of discovery

Walk through age of spaces intended upon,

Set down, flatland, beds in a glass catamaran

Fills the questions with sand

Until they pour out forming a hand.