I'm living in a castle made of sand.
It looks to be made of some hearty stone,
But I'm good at finding truth.
Sometimes I pluck it out of ears, like a magician's coin.
Truth is a bit more expensive.
Still, the castle is cheap.
All I need is for it to keep me dry,
And so it does.
Like a wise man, I built it on a rock.
I believe things firmly even as I embrace fluidity.
Yet, sand withers away in the wind,
And what I took refuge in crumbles onto my head
As well as inside my soul.