What Truly Counts
by Bill Conley
In a world that
praises what we own,
With towers built of glass and stone.
We chase and chase, yet still feel small,
Perhaps we never knew at all.
A crowded house,
a bursting shelf,
Yet emptiness inside oneself.
The loudest life may miss the tone
Of quiet joys we find alone.
A child’s laugh,
a hand to hold,
A story shared, a truth retold.
These treasures don’t demand a price,
Yet make a life that's rich and nice.
Not more, but
meaning, makes us whole.
Not things, but love, can fill a soul.
So pause, step back, and look once more,
You’ll find the truth worth living for.
It’s not the
car, the cash, the fame,
But hearts that burn with honest flame,
The little acts of love we show,
Are seeds of joy that truly grow.
A sunrise walk,
the ocean breeze,
A moment spent beneath the trees.
When gratitude is what we store,
We learn that less can still be more.
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