Only air in the fist.
Nothing to grab,
Nothing to save.
Nothing to stand on.
A foundation of sand,
Slipping into oblivion,
Through the shadows.
Hoping beyond hope,
That something comes,
Something changes,
Something reaches out.
Is it a lost cause to hope so?
To dream,
To caste a lot onto the dirt,
Counting on dim luck
To get one through some more.
Is there a chance at all?
Stumbling along the sidewalk 
Cleverly written, and pretty candid — but kinda nihilistic
Thanks for reading my poem, and for commenting. I appreciate the compliments, too! If there is a sense of nihilism to it, it is not intentional. It’s not supposed to be philosophy, or a recipe for life. Just about feelings, really. Sometimes we feel all alone. That’s what this poem is about. Thanks again for your comment!
gsb3