There once lived a man on a deserted island.
For years he had lived there, undisturbed
till one day he noticed a torrential storm in the distance.
for several weeks he watched as it inched closer and closer,
till he realised that it was heading for his island.
He knew what he had to do.

So over the next few days,
he devised a plan for a boat which would sail him away safely,
using the wood he would get from the trees which covered the island.
He picked up his hatchet and swung it for the first time at his first tree.
The steel clashed with wood, but the damage was negligible.
And so for hours on that day,
he swung and swung till he could swing no more.
Still the tree refused to fall, its thick trunk mocking the man.
And so for days the same routine continued,
till he could take no more.

Eager for a break, the man stepped out to the beach,
staring at his inevitable conclusion,
then he laid down,
and grabbed the sand at his feet.
He moulded it with his blistered and sore hands,
till it formed a solid shape,
which he planted on the shore.
His first sand castle.
Amazed by his accomplishment,
the man continued,
days past,
then weeks,
then a month,
till he forgot the urgent task at hand,
till all the sand which laid by the shore,
was a great monument,
a testament to his power and control.
And so the proud man stood above his creation
'Behold, I the maker of so grand a design!'
and as he boasted,
he then realised,
the storm had come,
the waves ripped through his art,
teared his fragile body,
till all that remained of the island were the trees,
and the marks he left on the stubborn wood.
(8:29 AM)