Abstract as balls

I put out my hands to grab it, but the light is in my eyes.

The sun is blinding me but I know it has to be there for me to live.
I can't even see what I'm reaching for; I just know that it is before me, and it is what I want.
I get a touch of it sometimes but I still can't quite tell what it is, just how it feels to come close to seizing it.
I recall a distant dreamy memory of it being in my hands when I was young.
I'm clutching fists of sand, all too aware that as soon as it is in my grasp, it is ebbing.

I have my arms up and my hands are open.
My eyes are open, I just need to wait for them to adjust.

I will have this happiness.