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. [""": U"U"U
. |:: \:::/ THE SAND CASTLE
. |:: _______|:: a Genesis myth
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Under an azure sky, beside a sea
of green and grey and spume driven ashore,
the glitt'ring strand stretched on and on before
the nose and eyes of dog and child; a place
alive to chance discovery --
delightful oddities dotted upon
the sand -- exposed and warmed by noonday Sun.
Exuberant, the dog wandered at speed
-- with tail a'wag, a flag -- far in the van;
the child brought up the rear no less inspired
by possibility of trophies strange
to prod and pick to mount in pride of place
as frontispiece, upon the mighty Wall
that here this day would keep the Sea People
from sundering the peace of Bron-zed Lands.
A sparkling shell was found about the spot
favoured to build anew ramparts and towers,
from grains of honey blonde, hand-dug and shaped,
before a bailey wide, in which to sit,
in swimming trunks and fight the rush and rip
of waves invading on the rising tide;
no time to waste: the battlements began!
Upon this holiday, the Summer Liege
repulsed the first attacks upon the Wall
with scant concern -- the Bron-zed People safe,
the sparkling shell a bright beacon of hope --
behind ramparts was dug the bailey deep
quarried to build the Wall ever higher
against the foes implacable return.
And Lo, again they came, renewed in force
throughout the day, breaking upon the Wall
in strength so as to cause warhorns to sound
and hands to rush to fill breaches awash,
valour displayed cut off the worst assaults
for time enough to fix what gaps they could,
in lulls between the onward surging ranks.
Then came the bitter end! A shadow dark
was cast over the Liege of Summer's works;
the child was gathered up and led away
by parents bound for home's reality;
long looking back at wonder falling down
the child inside wish'd hard it ever stand.
In grey armour, possessed of many arms,
a tiny daemon fey, wet like the sea,
stood by his cave opening behind the Wall.
This daemon 'Max' well knew the game that such
a wish could play upon the cold hard world;
and duly cast the fort should never fall.
Thence lowly grains fell not to entropy,
but scaled from bailey-deeps to crown the Wall,
each in their turn, before being replaced
by more besides, more sand, ever higher...
beyond sunset and so into the night
in dreams' domain, setting world wrongs, aright.
Thrusting aside land and sea drowned long
in mundane cares and tepid loves and woe,
the slope before the ever climbing Wall
did sparkle bright with things fantastical
ejected from the deeps forgot, unearthed
by sand and stone and rock moving en masse.
First came the Maids and Men of shield and sword,
followed by Elvenkind -- mildly put out --
Half-Elves, Halflings and Curiosities
frolicked about, before the Dwarven clans
grumbling awake from slumber underground,
ere last was spew'd Goblins, covered in funk.
In dark'ning cloud a'gushing from the maw
there was the whirr of winged things unseen,
and all the sky was rent by lightning's fork
and fall of ash in breaking to renew;
the Globe a'pierced unto its core and through
out t'other side, where drained antipodes'
oceans a'whirl to cool and cloud its face...
... and so ...
... beneath the crystal spheres celestial,
a wish fulfilled has wrought a shapely world,
delicious in its form -- no pressured globe
assessing risk in ledgers, black and red --
instead the sweeping play of passions hot
enthralls the escapee from Age the Fourth,
and satisfies the ageless child at heart.
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This old world keeps spinning 'round...
https://media2.giphy.com/media/sW7RdG6PJKXn2/giphy.mp4
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