Like castles made of sand, enthusiasm stands,
our feelings battlements erected by a child,
who strongly, confidently shapes the shifting sands,
his powerful imagination running wild.
Yet ever comes the sea, its constant, endless wave
destroying all he built before the close of day;
by then, the child himself cares not his house to save,
untethered, wild attention gone another way.
Our feelings are the child, his castle made of sand;
some fun, but meaningless, and fickle is their sway!
Our principles are stone and iron on solid land,
and they alone the mighy sea can e'er withstand.
