The desert is full of it
Coarse and rough grit
To the naked eye, bland
They just say its "sand".

We must let go, disband
This archaic word in hand
Must retire, set on fire
Sand to glass, I desire!

Opaque form, holds grain
A vessel for it to rain
Piles into a mound
Our glass goes around.

More than just "sand",
Its not just Afghan land
Gaze close at this dirt
Scintilla arose your flirt.

Another look at the glass
The gems, they seep fast
Its dull grain viewed afar
Shines up close, like a star

No longer is it "sand",
We saw it firsthand
Gleaming stones of time
Now you know, it is your prime.