The Price

The price for glory
Is a heavy price.
Too many have become sorry
Pursuing that Golden Fleece.
Yet why do we pursue it?
Why not just lie in the summer days
Like a leaf, dance and flit
In the radiant rays?
The price is a heavy one,
The hands are callused.
A broken son,
Broken by the unforgiving ballast.
What drives one to offer
Sweat, blood, and tears
Empty the human coffer
And toil the many years?
The price is heavy.
And the price is this.

Previous Post
Next Post
Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

  • Calendar

    February 2011
    S M T W T F S
    « Jan   Mar »
  • Archives

  • Categories

  • Oliman

    For people who love to think.

    Jian Carlo R. Narag, MD


  • Advertisements
%d bloggers like this: