Sandcastles | Teen Ink

Sandcastles

October 31, 2011
By AlmostFourEyes SILVER, Pune, Other
AlmostFourEyes SILVER, Pune, Other
5 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
There was dusting and sweeping to do, books to be put away. Lovely books. It didn&#039;t matter to Dick if they were leather-bound tomes or paperbacks with garish covers. He loved them all, for they were filled with words, and words were magic to this hob. Wise and clever humans had used some marvellous spell to imbue each book with every kind of story and character you could imagine, and many you couldn&#039;t. If you knew the key to unlock the words, you could experience them all.<br /> <br /> ---Pixel Pixies, Charles de Lint


I built a sandcastle, on the high tide ground,
It was swept away - never was found
By anyone who searched - not that anyone tried -
Every time it was swept away, a spark in me died.

For the spark kept my beautiful sandcastle ashore,
The spark and sandcastle would tide me o'er
The time when the tide swept my sandcastle away,
Going through the night, gone by the day.

My spark was going- sandcastle's gone,
My fire is dim - when it once shone
Through the night - burning bright,
Now the light's far away - almost out of sight.

You wonder what went wrong, where you sinned,
Mighty sandcastle's now dust in the wind,
It's so frustrating, you want to scream,
Building sandcastles on the Beach of Broken Dreams.

And the sand in your castle, which once stood proud,
The grains, scattered amongst those in the crowd,
And then it hits you - the way the world behaves,
Castle once stood tall - now trampled by the waves.

So one night I stood there - watching my castle fade
The waves carried it away, as it bade
Me goodbye, for it was time to go,
And how beautiful it was, others would never know.

And I wondered - of this is the end, what use is trying,
What use is living, if the end is dying,
Why try your best, if it's not going to matter,
Why build something, when it's all going to shatter.

Why write anything, when no one reads it,
Why preach something, when no one believes it,
Even if the outside is warm, the inside is cold,
Before you know it, your castle is full of holes.

Full of imperfections, full of flaws,
Can't do better than your best, those are the laws,
Your best becomes your worst - there's no reason,
You keep doing your worst, even when you know it's treason.

And you still keep building - whether four or four score,
Betraying everything you ever stood for,
For you've convinced yourself - that is your destiny -
Now I see other washed out sandcastles next to me.

Once upon a time - building sandcastles inspired you,
Now, building those castles only tires you,
Then you see others' sandcastles - so majestic,
Then look at your heaps of sand - they seem almost rustic.

And your heaps of sand are carried out by the sea,
Those heaps of sand, trampled beneath your own feet.
Look around - other castles have so much lustre, so much sheen,
While you're building castles, on the Beach of Broken Dreams.



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