Essence of Life
The essence of life
Is not the grand, shining prize—
Not the towers we build,
Not the praise, not the size.
It is not in the gold
That I chased in my youth,
But in hard-spoken love,
And in stubborn old truth.
It’s not in the noise
Of applause or acclaim,
But in calling your child
By their little pet name.
It lives in the touch
Of a calloused old hand,
In the strength to let go,
In the grace to withstand.
I once thought it lived
In the sharp edge of pride,
But it is more in the nights
When someone stayed by your side.
It’s in nursing a wound
That no one can see,
In forgiving yourself
Before your soul goes to sleep.
It’s in coffee gone cold
In a hospital bed,
In the things that you meant
But never quite said.
It’s in songs half-remembered
And quiet shared meals,
In the hush of a prayer
When you don’t know what heals.
It’s the smile you give,
Not the ones you take;
The truth you speak
For compassion’s sake.
Not the lies you guard,
Or the words you bend—
But the honesty shared
That helps someone mend.
The essence of life
Isn’t found in control,
But in losing your way
And still loving it whole.
It’s the friend who returns
Though you pushed them away,
It’s the smile from a stranger
That carries your day.
It’s in holding your breath
As the sunset turns gold,
And the ache in your chest
When you’re finally old.
It’s the stories I tell
Though my voice may grow thin,
And the silence that waits
For the next breath to begin.
So if you're still young,
Don’t rush through the race.
Let the moment unfold—
Feel the sun on your face.
Because life, my dear child,
Isn’t just to survive.
It’s the love that we leave—
That’s the essence of life.
Copyright © Victor Ernest Osong | Year Posted 2025
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