I looked for the sun,
day after day,
my hands always reaching out
to cup a bit of that flame –
save it for myself.

I looked to be the best,
looking for that gold
that I wanted to decorate my room with,
but my greed was never satisfied,
and the world’s gold wasn’t enough.

I looked to the horizon
as my feet pounded across cracks
and gravel,
wanting to run to the end of the earth
watch myself standing triumphantly
at the cliff’s edge.

I wanted, I wished, I looked,
I planned, and I hoped,
but my eyes failed one bright day,
and the gold gradually rusted,
and my legs gave out half-way.

The greed never left –
thirst to prove myself, to be something –
to hear the crowds cheering my name,
to see people with hearts for me,
to feel satisfaction and triumph rush through my veins
to be someone other than myself.

But my dreams were too big,
and they crushed me with its giant fists,
stamping out my fire and my flames,
so I laid on the ground, burnt-out,
still wishing still wanting still hoping

but unable to receive.

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