The Castle That Was Once Mine

(Before you read this, take a moment to sit with “What the Waters Took.” This is where the tide returns.)

I did not build it.
I only found it.
But somehow, in that moment, it belonged to me.

Time has passed. The tide that swept it away no longer roars.
But I still remember.

Not with the ache of loss,
but with the quiet knowing that some things are given only for a season.
Not to possess, but to witness.
Not to hold, but to feel.

The castle that was once mine taught me that beauty does not always ask permission before it leaves.
It comes uninvited.
It stays undefined.
And when it goes, it does not apologise.

I used to ask why.
Why give me something I could not keep?
Why let me taste joy I could not own?

Now I see it differently.
It was never about ownership.
It was about awakening.
The castle was a mirror, a metaphor, a messenger.

It reminded me that life is not built from permanence,
but from presence.

I do not need to rebuild that castle.
I carry it in me.
Every fleeting joy, every sudden loss, every unexpected gift; they are the sands from which my soul is shaped.

The castle is gone.
But I am still here.
And I am still becoming.

Nugget: We are not made by what we keep, but by what we carry forward.