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Peter Wolveridge Poem
What life is this when all is not enough?
Each goal achieved precurses one more need
And worldly goods, my bloated ego bluff,
Enslaving me in this sad selfish greed.
The thrill of each success soon flashes past.
Eyes focus then on some new gleaming prize,
Spurred on by hunger, it is mine at last!
I gloat, but then the fire within me dies.
As on wheel’s rim my life flies ever round,
Endures the highs and lows of ev’ry turn.
Desire my master, it does but confound
All logic, yet my tortured senses burn.
Achievements such as these, so dearly bought,
Bring not the love nor happiness I sought.
Copyright © Peter Wolveridge | Year Posted 2022
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