The Reality of My Fortress

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. 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741