Along the sea the little boy walks,
clear skies, blue waters, air drenched in salt.
The white sands set his heart alight with fire,
in the plain white beach his dreams conspire.
With a grin he steps resolutely,
towards to his castles yet to be.
Feverishly he digs into the sands,
the stuff of dreams he holds in his hands.
Castles, kingdoms and cathedrals,
Xi Shi, Helen and Mumtaz Mahal
Kremlin, Eiffel and Potala,
Zeus, Odin and Gautama.
Everest, Ring of Fire and Amazon,
Cupid, Asura and Leviathan.
Orion, Scorpio and the Big Dipper,
Lastly, the figure of love forever.
In the sands his love and soul poured forth,
through his fingers fantasies take form.
For every grain of sand he moulds,
An equal grain of sweat is flowed.
With a grin his work is done at last,
brimming with pride he cannot help mask.
What was before just a plain white beach,
stands now a castle richer than rich.
But in the distance a wave he spots,
the daily high tide has not forgot.
Against his wishes he had long realized,
the laws of nature can't be denied.
The waves would have to run their course,
oblivious to the little boy's loss.
Every wave that drowns out his creations,
the very wave drowns out his heart's passions.
From afar the boy tasted the sea,
salty streaks from his eyes flowed freely.
Now the beach is once again plain,
alone on the beach the boy remains,
but the sand still sets his heart on fire,
in which his dreams he sees forever,
With a grin he returns resolutely,
back once more to his castles yet to be.
-- Isaac, 18 Oct 2009, 415am
