I built a palace on the coastal sand
With towers hanging o’er the crashing sea,
It was the throne I dreamt that it would be.
I thought I’d found my home and native land.
But as the Sun sank lower in the west
It freed the winds of the Black Orient,
And every stone was crushed, each pillar bent,
Ere morning coaxéd Eurus to his rest.
I must have wandered far throughout the night:
I fled through darkness for some shelter near,
But could not find the ruin of my fear
While searching in that resurrected light.
Instead away from my lost sandy throne
I found a new foundation made of stone.