If just one single step was made
Toward helping hands that once freely gave
The world wouldn’t sit upon pillars so angle, ready to fall should the two hands tangle.

The pillars yet grasping the sky,
Made still, from salts and sands of time.
The sand will be blown, and the salt to dissolve, both leaving nothing but a trace of once saw.

The hands though attached to a body so strong,
Stagger and fall through thoughts, deeds and wrong.
Though the arm moves the hand, and the hand the fingers, the mind controls all, even the small.

For as the hand flails
The pillars then crumble
The only one left is the clock left ticking under.

The hand has clenched
The fist now swings
The mind is corrupted by many tiny things.