Portents V

Grains of sand blow across my land
As I seek a full understanding
Stings garnered by incessant winds
Scour away my surroundings
A world, desolate and stripped
The old ways, all of our foundings
Weathered, worn, and indescript
With lonely, longing words confounding
Our modern, sandy, translucent age
So pitted with holes - abounding
As it all weathers slowly away
A scene, that once would be astounding