I know they won’t be able to withstand the big waves and the stormy winds. I keep building them regardless. Lots and lots of marvelously shaped wonders made out of zillion sand crystals. Castles of pure sand.
I know very clearly, and it is so obvious that such buildings are for a moment and they won’t last. They never do. Why to bother? Why to put in so much time in something evanescent that only passes away in the moment it is created and is unable to survive? Did I think this would be an exception? Did I believe that our dreams can magically turn sand into gold? Steel? Glass? Concrete? Wood? I must have been really silly believing in the magic of imagination. I must have lost the thin line between daydreaming and reality.
I build them all day. Long rows of beautiful and tall sand castles. I get up in the morning; pack up my pain and depression so they can enviously stare at my creations. When the weather is smooth like a silk scarf and the sun just sends down the first beams to explore the coastline, I am ready to get to my never-ending work: I am focused, determined and extremely self-conscious. I don’t need any plans, I don’t care about schedules. I always hope this day is going to be better than the previous one. In fact, it never is. My castles are fine. Materials and place are wrong. If it only was some other place. If I only had something stronger for my castles. So the night sets in, waves rise and they level down my creations. When I look at the same place next morning, all I can see is an empty sandy coast. No sign of anything from the day before.
Well, it has come to the point when I have to make a decision. I have two bad choices to consider. Doing nothing is not a good choice and doing something might worsen the current situation. It is as if I am standing at the crossroads and neither one of four roads promises to end in a good destination. Or do they? There might be something hidden behind the hills, there might be a good news waiting. Meanwhile, the days have been quiet and fairly empty. Foggy, meaningless and painful. The only thing to hold on has been castles built of sand. Fragile, unsafe and only for a short moment standing. They cannot become a shelter. They cannot save anybody from the storm. Why to bother? Why?
I would say there is always still hope even with a hopeless intention and an impossible purpose.
Inese Poga Life School 
What an interesting perspective – and this bit of words was my favorite here:
“When the weather is smooth like a silk scarf and the sun just sends down the first beams to explore the coastline….”
The alliteration – and mood – mmmmm
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Thanks so much! I am trying to get to similar style and level what I have when I write in Latvian. I suppose it doesn’t even matter that much what language I use since if it’s inside it has to come out and find an expression.
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😉 yes – if it inside and has to come out 💙
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Exactly!
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Beautifully written musing about life’s struggles.
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Thanks Bernadette! I’ve been more on the sad side for a while. I hope I can turn things around with my total discount art sales. Well, it’s been very difficult 3 years from which I am getting away.
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Such a compelling reading… taken to a next level, life its goals and moments might be sand castles, at least to a certain extent…. the analogy is interesting, if you stop to think it…
Doing something which might suddenly vanish is already an act… so there is a footprint or signature in that specific act… we are all transitory and our lives are finite, so hopeless intentions are not so, as you have well highlighted in the last line of your post..
Thanks so much for sharing, dear Inese… Love & best wishes. Aquileana 😀
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Thank you so much! It is was very interesting to read how you projected the infinite actions we perform throughout our life onto the finite aspect of life. Your thoughts are just so much in line with context of this writing.
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Exactly – always hope. Or, as Leonard Cohen said, “Ring the bells that still can ring.” Both are good avenues to walk upon and gaze at the water, and stars when the sun goes down …as the moon comes up.
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Hope is something which runs in the background of consciousness. I do not usually speak Spanish, but I remember one line which I most likely read when I was studying either Latin some 30 years ago, or in novels of George Sand: consuleo de mi alma. That’s how I feel this. Thank you so much for your fantastic and thoughtful comment.
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