Poor and Painful

i walk along the golden shore and find the poets sighing the burning sand beneath them gleams i wonder why they're crying is it that they see too much while seeking for too little poor and painful is their lot whose lives are bright and brittle like the shining glaze that's made by melting pure white sand without the golden mean i mean the gilded do not understand why the silver wavelets break in harmony with screams washing clean the feet of gods and poets dreaming dreams