Sand Castles

I close my eyes—deep and heavy—
Searching for some inspiration,
Perhaps for calm reassurance
In a world that perfectly corrupts
All that I wish to keep pure.

I write for peace on a simple pad,
To combat the inward strife with words,
With no concern for preference or prose.
The words clarify the uncertainty;
They chase away worry and doubt—
A true friend just there to listen,
Prodding me along each blue line.

It comes from a place unknown—
First like honey, later like syrup—
Silencing an inner narrative,
Ushering in a peace seldom known.

But now, you wish to monetize me,
To write a word for money—
Like I do my time and energy,
My body and my soul, like a sheep.

Hasn’t this machine robbed enough?
Like a pack of wolves, they circle,
Forcing you to run faster, ever faster,
To chase them to another's home,
So you can survive, and possibly thrive.

But “enough” is an elusive shapeshifter.
Society’s perfect plan cracking at the seams.
They teach us to argue the irrelevant,
To distract and divide by design,
To hide the truth in plain view.

The promise made for them is not made for you—
To give and give—but to what end?
A moving goal in a game with no rules,
Washed away like castles of sand.

Gone are the free words,
Written not for acclaim or structure.
Gone are the melodies and notes,
Written to give emotions voice—
Gone, in the pursuit of sandcastles.

To trade the muse, the source,
For sand on a better beach,
To that which corrupts liberally.

This sand is just fine for me.

Nicholas Campos ~ May 2025