When the entirety of my dreams collapse

When castles I've built up in sand become ruins in a heap

And weigh more than a mountain as they melt into the beach

And the waves come to pummel any of the remains

As the turning of the tide swallows up my fame

And the Son beating down turns all my selfish works to shame

What shall a soul, broken, battered and lost, do in the midst of such destruction?

Or who can heal a broken spirit that lies parched and vulnerable in the rays of noonday?

A perverted soul like mine withers in the face of such Glory divine

Glory of a hidden paradise, an island all mine own

Filled with wonderous sights to feed the eyes, and luscious fruits to feed the soul

And yet I sit upon the beaches, looking down at the dust

Trying to build something of worth out of the most worthless thing I've found

Not able to get up, to explore, or be at peace

And the one thing that keeps me here is my own prideful, ambitious sceme

I worked through the night, in the shelter of darkness

The bitter cold of night preffered to the cool of the Day

And now I see that it was all vanity

The tides of Love stay at bay for none, and are as fierce as they are lovely

And they wreck the best intentions built on the wrong foundation

At the end of myself, and the works of my hands, I see how foolish I have been

For none with sense would ever build a home upon the shore

And only the most perfect Love could breathe life into sculpted sand

Too weak to resist, I succumb to the roaring waves

I feel the tide pull the ground out from under me

This final surrender pulls me out into the deep unknown

A baptism of death to self, and a life so truely real
That when I rise back to the surface, I shall finally, really heal