We spend our lives driving through things
Only to discover quite late that they are only things
And the great value we attach to them
Is far less than their actual worth.
Own your: watch, car, closed gate mansion, title
Beware their auras and pawn shop values
The thing my mother in the wisdom of her greatest years confirmed
Still, they are only things.
Climb your mountain of achievement
Discover that the climb is greater than the summit
Life has the potential for the wise and humble to be a process
And this - even a point called death - can not defeat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your name, Mr. Grace is well inherited! Your poem reminds me of 'Everyman' which has a similar message, ending that only your good deeds can accompany you to your death (I hope that's true) . Yes, that climb is what we mortals should try to enjoy, as the summit is ever farther away. Linda