As we walk down our obsidian pathways of life,
I see glowing, golden beams of light.
I go forward, eyes trained on the beams eagerly,
Only to find treasure that is not for me.
Heaping mountains of diamond and gold
Memories of lives well-lived
Await the others in this labyrinth.
Why are they not for me?
As I look down to my path, I see
Shattered glass, specks of fool's gold,
And bits of glitter -
Happy moments on dark pathways,
Shining dimly, but nevertheless giving light.
I shall collect them, hoard their glows.
By saving them, I have,
If not a the sun, a flashlight.
When I reach the end of my path,
I hope my glitter will build and surpass
The treasure of those who saw only the end,
And ignored the glitter at their feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed this and found nuggets of inspiration within.