Seldom does the heart find comfort in its desire, <br />We desire what we have not got - always, <br />An item, an object, anything to simply admire, <br />And that is how we continue to count out our days: <br />The lucky might even reach their goal - yet they will continue to pursue, to find other ways. <br /> <br />From the cradle to the grave - we prolong our strife; <br />We continue to pursue our quest, our desires, <br />Money, fame, respect. All of us in this modest race they call life: <br />Yet there is no winner, we all blindly add to this raging fire, <br />It is in our own actions that we count out our remaining days, <br />Thus it none but our own fault - Cursed by our own greed; we deserve to live in such dismay.<br /><br />Ahmed Mahmoud<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/our-days-2/
