To write down all I contain at this moment
I would pour the desert through an hour-glass,
The sea through a water-clock,
Grain by grain and drop by drop
Let in the trackless, measureless, mutable seas and sands.
For earth's days and nights are breaking over me,
The tides and sands are running through me,
And I have only two hands and a heart to hold the desert and the sea.
What can I contain of it? It escapes and eludes me,
The tides wash me away,
The desert shifts under my feet.
The Moment Greta Stoddart (1945)