The golden goal shines,
Enchanting with its allure.
I am drawn, transfixed.
Seduced by the promise of glitter,
Ploughing through hardships many,
I trod, gathering the legacy of scars.
My body beaten, my resolve broken,
Too tired to pursue, too weary to protest,
I accept the burden of failure, defeated.
Time applies, its soothing balm,
Maturity feeds me, detachment,
Regret gifts me, the mirror of reflection.
Wearing the lens of hindsight, I look back,
Why was I so drawn to the golden orb?
When I am standing on one, if only smaller?
The hole in my soul echoes its answer.
“The pursuit of labor was a good deed,
Until you sold contentment, for greed.”
Propelled by hard work once more I am.
Peace and contentment cushioning the ride,
Trading the legacy of scars, for pearls of wisdom.