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Footprints in the sand; its gentle imprint--delicate, but detailed, like a map
of the heart. It crumbles in the breeze that fades like ribbons woven into
velvet, but fortified with a single drop of moisture. Each crevice spirals
eventually to its middle, like a maze but without a reward for its victor, only
a lesson in its will.
It's reminiscent of a loved one; calligraphy in the book of love; it's
pages unfurled, it's cover and spine untattered. A silk ribbon that flows serenely over the front cover book marking the page like a private waterfall concealed by a majestic landscape streaming across the Garden of Eden.
Cascading sunlight; lush hues, dividing the horizon in a myriad of tones. A
painting of a portrait; the wind is the brush and the sand is its palate, covering old impressions and revealing new ones.
The ocean tickles our toes, sand and water beads through each crevice and down our feet.
A perfume of rose petals that fills your nostrils or a feather that tickles
your face. Seashells whisper sweet nothings in your ear; tickle with vibration.
Whether it's reciting a few lines from your favourite poem; or lyrics from our favourite song; the one that makes time stop and the hands of a clock tick the other way; like a passage from a fairytale where anything and everything can be created and preserved at will.
With a single drop of water from the ocean, or tears that stream from your eyes, you can start building a sand castle. Both our hands construct the corners, stretching towards and expanding across the Heavens; the ocean our silent guardian; our nourishment, surrounds us like a medieval mote for our protection.
Small and large sandcastles line the beach, like clams along the shoreline;
each one more detailed then the one before it.
Dragons made of clay adorn the kingdom, spewing ancient fires, glowing embers, with potency like the crashing tide below. Sorcerer's yield magic from rooftops, like prophets delivering prophecies, churning new and greater spells from their crystal balls; dazzling eyes, illuminating minds, like comets searing through the twilight of the universe and bouncing off each star like a glowing pinball. Cracks of lightning fork down from the sky; expelling
simultaneously from their fingertips.
Nevertheless, its walls are impenetrable: from the north, south, west, and
east, from the very top and all way underneath. This castle shall crown its Prince and maiden, King and Queen, Knight and jester all wear the same crown.
The drawbridge lowers; a large plank of sand captures every detail of fine oak. The chain rattles at each link. A marble coach made out of the finest grains of sand and a horse made out of clay to wisk us away....
------
I bleed ink.
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I'll Be Damned (revision)
