Sand at my feet,
pocket full of brocken shells,
each wave a rythm to a different beat;
This is what life could be.
The sand the wave the sea.
How far is my reach, from here on the beach?
Pocket full of brocken shells.
At-last I see my grasp. The sea at my hand.
Infinite possobilities and all my time,
to change, morph, and shape me and what I see;
To what I want to see.
A Castle at my feet.