Night falls fast upon the beach,
the waves; they crash and clasp and reach.
foam and spray are hurtled high
upon the rocks and to the sky
where they are lost upon mist and dark
the consuming night is all they mark.







I

On the beach with a shovel in hand
there was a child playing in the sand
to build to dig, to sculpt and mould
the ocean inches forward, icy cold
and as the sea crept forward and near
the child kept building; he had nothing to fear.
but salt and water take their toll
on the castles of our souls
the next day when the boy returned to the sand
the wave had grasped and clasped their hand
upon his castle, and the beach
was flattened by the ocean's reach
"why do the waves come in and fade
all that we have built and made?"
the child asked the vacant bay
where the waves rocked in a rhythmic sway
The wind answered with a whistling hiss
the ocean stirred, seagulls cried this:
"if nothing was ever erased
the world would have no space
for new castles in the sand
The child cried "I don't understand."
"An old castle must disappear
If we want the room to be clear
for builders like you to build
it's the shovel not the castle where dreams are filled
Imagine what it would be like if there was no need
for you to come back and proceed
to build a castle every day."
the child sat on the beach
and watch his castle vanish in the water's reach
















II

No one noticed but the gulls in the bay
when the boy stopped coming each day
to build a castle in the sand
with a bucket and shovel in each hand.
The waves lapped with nothing to ease their thirst
but the ebb and flow was flawless and rehearsed
And when he returned, nothing had changed.
Rain and sea mixed to make
puddles where the waves would break
the man wore loafers and a pressed suit
he stared into the ocean in a lonesome salute
He undid his tie and let it fall
into the waves which crawled
and sat and cried into his hands
which once held shovels, which once moved sand.
And his shoes were soaked by the ocean's blood
and his pants were stained by sandy mud
he took his frozen haggard hand
and slowly lifted and moved the sand
the castle was crumbled and small
the waves lapped it up in no time at all
salt and water take their toll
on the castles of our souls







III

The man didn't return to that beach for many years
land is the best place to contain tears
a tear that falls in the ocean only adds
to thousands of other types of salty sad
so the man worked in an office night and day
but time can also take what we've made away
and he grew wrinkles which etched into his face
and his hair grew grey from life's race.
So he traveled the world, trying to withstand
the beckoning call of the beach and the sand
but he returned once more to the beach
he used a cane and his hair was bleached
he sat down upon an old piece of wood
and watched the waves lap where a child stood
crying, as a castle once again
became the water's next victim
"Why do the waves come in and fade
all that we have built and made?"
The small and feeble voice cried

into the waves, into the tide.
The man moved though it hurt him so
to the child squatting down bellow.
"look here child, take my hand
and we'll make footprints in the sand
and if the tide takes them away,
we'll still be walking, though the day
and when night falls do not fear
we'll come back tomorrow, and if they are not here,
we'll make more footprints in the sand
we'll keep on walking hand in hand.
And if I don't appear
do not fret I will be near
and it's up to you to keep walking through the sand
and just keep walking, that's my only demand
but stop sometimes to make
a castle where the waves would break."
and the child took his hand
and they made footprints in the sand.







IV

Night is restful upon the beach
the stars shine through the ocean's reach
the water shimmers like a mirror
the moon; on two surfaces, brilliantly clear
a single track of footprints trails from that day
and the ebbing tide stays far away.