In the realm of breeze and ocean, sands gather.
Yet, each grain holds a frequency unknown, unheard, like dreams nested in oblivion.
A whisper of existence, a shout of the cosmos—both as futile as the echo in an empty cave.
And so the annual Sand Castle Competition began,
led by the illustrious Sir Granular of Silica.
"Behold! My castle will touch the heavens!" he declared,
only to trip on a bucket of metaphysics moments later.
Judges sat with their clipboards,
scribbling notes on existential sandpiles.
As one judge fell asleep,
his dream became the blueprint for a castle of a thousand metaphors.