Crushed

I am being crushed, to sand like the face of a cliff on the ocean. Billions of bits of sand floating, drifting apart where once a solid rock stood. There is little left, and the press just got tighter. There will be less left soon. Crush me 'til all that remains is sand. Spread me with the currents and the waves; mould me into the shapes you require; blow me into glass, transform me. A rock is too hard, too unforgiving. Turn me to sand.