Life is like a beach. The sun is shining beautifully down and the sound of the waves against the shore is hypnotic and calming. You are comfortable and happy, but you want to feel like a part of the beautiful scenery in which you have found yourself. You get down on your hands and knees and grab fistfuls of sand. It’s soft and the feeling of it in your hands is wonderful… but it slips through your fingers and blows away in the wind.
Once the sand has gone, you feel a little sad, because you miss it. It was a great feeling. Once again, you grab with both hands and feel the joy of two handfuls of sand. Once again, it’s wonderful to hold, but sad when it’s over. Eventually you’ll have lifted so many handfuls of sand, that you’ve actually manged to dig yourself a perfect grave. Then your life is over.
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I was going to post that without any context, but then I thought that that might be a bit rubbish and pretentious. The sand represents the people in our lives and how, try though we might, we can never keep them their permanently. Quite melancholy, perhaps, but quite accurate – and just because something comes to an end that doesn’t lessen its value.
