by Fergus Hancock
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Our short lives can be filled only with frustration and bluster, until we accept that our careers, money and toys are only sand we use to make sandcastles.
All we may grasp at, or desire
Are only dreams, sandcastles.
We build towers – moats and banners,
Walls and pinnacles standing proud;
And we think the world is ours.
Then, the tide rolls in – and washes away
Our pride, ambitions and false dreams.
The beach is then again scrubbed clean,
And some other child will play
Where we so proudly stood our ground
And thought we had made an empire
That would last ten thousand years –
But slipped away, through our fingers,
Like water into the sand.
Our desires stand no chance
Against the tide’s flow.
Our time has flown so soon,
Forgotten, gone to yesterday.
Accept the incoming tide, and
Do not fight the flood against
Your time; accept that all will pass
So that another may come after us.
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|Reviewed by Taylor Ryan
|Just saw a new post and thought I'd wander a little...I enjoyed your vision in this piece. Oddly enough, I have one by the same name although it's a more romantic take on the same subject. Take a peek and let me know what you think.
|Reviewed by Sandie Angel
|Don't linger on the beach to build sandcastles;
Go with the flow where the wind blows.
It takes less efforts to travel.
Sandie May Angel :o)