Though I build this castle to look so grand
It matters not, for it is but sand.
If I work my best to make it last
The ocean will bury it with one mighty splash.

If I work harder and make it of wood
A storm may come and my work is of no good.
Should I try really hard and build with rock
A hurricane would come, and my work would be for not.

If I devise the most clever of ways
To work and guarantee my work is to stay
Then a man would come, and wanting his own home
Would take me out, and leave me nowhere to go.

This my point, of the most expediency,
Fill your life with neither work nor activity.
These are nothing, but sand in the sea.
Instead fill your life with utmost meaning.