The busy man runs to and fro,
people to see, places to go;
too busy even to rest his head,
instead, he collapses into bed,
Such a man needs to stop,
list his priorities from the top.
life’s too short for duck and cover,
this is it – there is no other.
The measure of a man’s success,
is inventoried before he rests,
At the end of his life’s days,
he’ll count his success in many ways,
His wealth in coins he must leave behind,
His triumphs become a footnote line.
Money and things will count for part,
The rest made up from what fills his heart.
Accolades will not hold him tight,
assets will not give warmth at night.
Only those he loved so dear,
will soothe him when his end is near.
Which man is the better off?
The man who has things or the man who has love?
It’s a debated question ages old,
The answer lies within one’s soul.
©nuance/mjjs
nuance 