Castles Made of Sand

The whole of my life is rather mundane, endured only until those few minutes gained; Yes, granted reprieve from this daily drudge, and allowed for the nonce, even if begrudged, to hold a feather,very sharp, to write with the tip. Slow and steady like a man taking sips…from the water of life after a long weary trip. When all the gears are lubricated, operating efficiently, and the needs of the world weigh on someone else, the mechanism of creativity connects with the crenelated cog of self. Dominoesk works cause my hand to haltingly write. Heart to mind, mind to body, body to hand, hand to quill…okay, so it's a keyboard, alright. Emotion, like sand after a beach trip, pours forth from places usually dark, not seen, unlit. Using that water of life and the sands of emotion, I build my castle with words and notions. Intricate battlements, portcullis, bailey , and arrow loops. Protection from arrows of interruption, darts of responsibility, and soldiers of the Soup. Until, Inevitably the drawbridge is breached, the end of my time finally reached. Slowly I surrender my feather sword, in this messy, mixed metaphorical world. The oven timer beeps and the phone rings, bringing me back to my life of mundane things.