“Do not desire," he said to me
With wearied eyes and worn beliefs,
"Desire only comes to grief;
From seeking, there is no relief."
I asked him all that he desired--
He showed me what he had acquired:
All the time that he had spent
On clothes and food
and friends and rent;
On chasing after selfish dreams,
Desires born of ingrown schemes.
I said, "You simply live too small--
Why, these weak wants won't do at all!
Better to have never lived
Than live a life of wasted gifts.
Your heart was made for grander things
Your weight too great for tiny wings."
He simply sighed and shook his head,
Drank his drink, and went to bed.
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