A Castle by the Sea
Along the shore she sculpts. Upon the flutter of blue she sifts her thoughts delicately into her red plastic pail. A continuum of music crescendos in waves of anticipation. Mere sand will become her castle by the sea.
In her shovel, the stars do shine. In her eyes, the heavens do sing. Perplexed by nothing, she examines every something that moves inside of her. It is not what we assume to be, it is what we find that sets us free.
Her long grey hair lit by the morning sun moves in ripples across her forehead. In the sanctity of these moments, she examines the foundation of her dreams. In the scheme of things, reverence is not what we worship, but what we find time to imagine and understand.
Barefoot and free, her heart does not dwell in tomorrow, or yesterday; it is present to this very moment. In mere moments we learn that happiness is not owning something, it is sharing what you have.
The bright sails on ships and the flight of white gulls are enough to keep her company as she measures and stirs the wet sand. In her hands are the realizations of what hold us together, grains, one upon another. Restless as the drifting, fluffed clouds, she tumbles and rolls her creation together.
A bike bell rings and a red kite ascends from beyond the rugged cliff. All is well on the peaceful shore and her bright thoughts sculpting what she implores. Her white dress spins like a prima ballerina as she rises to meet the colors of the sun. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, images of love that can be experienced, remembered, and spun.
Threads of light move in the wet sand. She follows the shadows of the sky to find the place where her dream castle can rise and the child in her can make believe what every heart yearns to be, complete. It is in our longing that we learn to belong.
Like a master, she falls into golden thoughts, and builds what can never be bought, her castle by the sea. In the quiet of our minds is a place where the child in us can find dreams, and a light that never turns away.
She meets her prince, she dances for hours, and awakens to find her castle washed ashore. She picks up her red pail, towel, and shovel and smiles. Dreams must wash ashore or we have no reason to dream of evermore.
It is not what we know, but what we believe, that makes the happiest endings … beginnings.
Heaven’s shores are lined with red sand pails, shovels, fallen stars, and castles by the sea.
Kathy Paysen 2012
-
- kathy paysen's blog
- Login or register to post comments
- 736 reads
Castles Built on Sand
A beautiful free-verse poem, Kathy. Did you have a red plastic pail as a child? Heh. I think it's the 2nd or 3rd time that I have read of it in your poetry.
Your last sentence in your second stanza really stood out to me: "It's not what we assume to be, it is what we find that sets us free." That's awesome! :-D
By the way, in your third stanza, the word 'moment' requires an 's'. (In the sanctity of these moments).
There is a lot of wisdom in this poem; one of the lines I really like is, "It is in our longing that we learn to belong." Well said!
You finished this piece very nicely, too. A great write, my friend. Wishing you many happy dreams.
Best regards,
Chris :-)
I Know a Place Where We Can Go
Chris,
Come to think of it ... I have owned a lot of red things in my life ... personal favorites ... sand pail, plaid metal lunch pail with a cool thermos ... with plenty of room for Hostess twinkies, cowgirl boots, and a bike.
I love to buy red to wear. We are in the season of red. Yes, I dare say, red is a favorite color of mine.
But my very favorite color and poetry theme is water and sky ... turquoise blue.
Jesus went to the sea and the wilderness to compose his thoughts. I want to follow His footprints in the sand, and His signature in the heavens.
Just the thought of the beach ... can relax me. I do miss the beach, my California. And I know that you and Mandy miss your Australia.
I will confess I am a soul that drifts. I am at home in my faith, but not at home in my world. I remain concerned about our nation, economic strife, and the unknown factors of just getting a day older.
I am missing my children in California ... and hoping that I can find a way to become an engine and not a caboose. I know the caboose is important but an old caboose is often left off the tracks. In short, I am striving to stay on the tracks ... you ... dearest Chris ... know what I mean.
Although I have faith, I have holes in my thinking and that lets all the light out ... and gives me a spirit ache. Being human is a challenge.
I went to the beach with my little red sand pail ... to get away and draw closer ... stange as it may be.
Merry Christmas dearest brother and soul mate. Your eyes on my thoughts is as important to me as my little red sand pail.
To own a castle on the sand ... is a way ... to find the light at the end of the tunnel ... the heaven on the horizon.
All my love,
Kathy :o)
Dallas, Texas
P.S. I am working a full-time 'seasonal' job in retail ... happy to have this 'minimum' wage position ... my co-workers are half my age ... probably more ... jolly good fun. And, THANK YOU for editing my writing ... I owe you.
Grainy Reality
To find all the pieces and put them together is our purpose. What kind of soul can feel at home and be alone all at once? And to gather those pieces and thread them together is an artistic masterpiece worthy of the stars. Maybe I will see your work there one day. I miss your insights and treasure past ones immensely. I miss you, too. I hope to be available soon, but my first baby is days away and he (Tristan) may keep me busy. But I can't stop thinking and thinking forces me to write. I hope you haven' forgotten me.
Yours in Words,
George
Welcome Home gcool6!
George,
What a joy to hear from you! You are going to be a father! ... what a precious gift for the season of love. Tristan will give you the world to write about. :o)
Thank you for putting your mind into my mind ... just long enough to let me know ... we are connected ... buddy. You have never met me ... but yet you know me ... and that is a lot to realize. You hit the nail on the head ... "What kind of soul can feel at home and be alone all at once?" ... It is an enigma, and most certainly a purpose for being lost and found in the stars.
There is great power in our weakness. To fall short is just the beginning of something wonderful beyond our complete understanding.
I could never forget you ... George ... gcool6 ... are you kidding me? You are like a starburst ... you know ... the chewy ones that you savor. You are cool.
Merry Christmas! May your thoughts lead you to where we all should be, and may you and your family be blessed with the joy of the world.
Welcome home ... we missed you.
Love,
Kathy :o)
Dallas, Texas
You will be a fantastic daddy! :o)
lost & found
Hospitals, TLC & connectivity. Is it really so rare to recognize our interdependence? I was never away, Kathy, from anyone but me. Love is a journey, understanding a gift & Love without understanding why a Miracle. The trick is knowing...
Love'll explain that feeling, this moment.
Does it matter? What is better than the life we have together? With the world in ruins, how do we find ourselves in Your Castle? I worship your words.
George
Bridge
George,
You have touched me, truly touched me. You fell into my words and splashed, picked yourself up, toweled yourself off, and realized what I have realized ... we are connected. When the light connects, the curtain pulls away, and the sheer joy of understanding fills our cups. Yes, even though we may be starving, we can be full.
I learned about joy in hard times from a friend, a fellow singer, at the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, California several years ago. Although she was young enough to possibly be a daughter, she had the soul sense of a great leader. Her last name was Groombridge and I found that a remarkable name for this epiphany.
I have found life to be a great puzzle. The pieces are everywhere, even in dreams. A number of years ago, when I could still call myself a teacher, I had a very supernatural experience: I was awakened in the early morning with a voice loudly whispering in my ear (it tickled) one word ... BRIDGE. This experience was so real, so revealing, and yet I still ponder what its message had for me. I often wondered if my friend, with the last name, Groombridge, was the catalyst to my thematic writing on finding joy in pain; she taught me ... "When we hit walls ... God does not love us less ... God loves us more."
George, we have been called to be social architects, bridges. We must cross one another. I love this thought, and it keeps me in my castle by the sea, where only truth can ignite my/OUR destiny.
Peace dear brother. Many blessings to you this day and always. Merry Christmas!
Love,
Kathy :o)
Dallas, Texas
Across Universes
Bridges. I suppose some need them, but some can swim right through the stars. Around takes too long. To Shine like you do, you must already be a Star.
I am swimming. Getting there but still struggling always, treading. Yours is a Star that guides me through. Please NEVER go out, darling.
How do we build them a direct route? You know I know and many others too. But not all See us. Send up a flare and we will come to you. Our emergency, not Yours.
Stars save lives.
Life is too short, they'd say. But there are legions waiting. My son is One.
Tristan Andres Cooley was born today at 7:38 AM Eastern. He was 5 lbs 10 oz of a package sent from Heaven, and only part. Umbilical cords cannot strangle us if we are meant to change the world. He is One with Us. Now and Forever.
You will hear from me soon.
I am and will always be an onlooker. Staring at Stars and seeking Bridges.
Take care and keep planning. We will build it.
George
Tristan Andres Cooley, The Gift
George,
May Tristan Andres Cooley be the light of your life. What a joy, a boy!
I hope your Christmas is as special ... as special gets.
Merry Christmas and happy tidings on becoming a daddy!
Love,
Kathy :o)
Dallas, Texas