Reward
Ugh, just a little poem i wrote.
There is gold, and there is silver
There are spices and there is land
There are cars and there are houses
There is any object you could ever conceive of buying
And they may bring joy
And they may bring comfort
They may bring smiles
And laughter
They may be genuine in there moment
But in the end
Things will not bring you happiness
Because the blind man on his death bed
Does not lament his lack of sight
But lack of the memories of the things he had never seen
It is the experiences and deeds we do in life
That inevitably forms who we will be remembered as and how we will live
You hear not of an obscure king and his great riches
But of the wild haired scientist who devoted his life to the betterment of all humanity
Live by your deeds because in the end
Money is worthless
The things you do, and the ones who you truly love
Will be all that matters