The Vanity of Human Desires
We gild our days with restless gold,
Chasing coins that slip through time,
Faces polished, young or old,
Mirrors whispering their rhyme.
We climb the ladders built of praise,
Each rung a promise thin as air;
The crowd applauds for fleeting days,
Then turns to find another heir.
We drink from wells of borrowed grace,
Wanting more with every sip;
Yet every treasure we embrace
Crumbles slowly in our grip.
But when the noise dissolves to dust
And all illusions fade like fire,
We learn the things we chose to trust
Were shadows of a deeper higher.
For hearts find peace in humbler aims,
Not trophies dressed in false attire;
And wisdom softly, gently claims—
There’s freedom in forgetting desire.
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