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
