And, as for those whose finding fame
Means more than daily life,
They live to sometime carve their name
In stonework with a knife.

And so they miss the goings-on
In each and every now,
And, even when the last one’s gone,
They long to take a bow.

And well I know there was a time
When that applied to me;
I turned my back on things sublime
And felled each sacred tree.

And yet I recognised my goof.
Since when, my fame’s gone through the roof.

Photo by Talles Alves on Unsplash

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