In the End, We Leave It All Behind

We spend our lives collecting things,

Chasing dreams on restless wings,

Building castles, reaching the sky,

Forgetting time is passing by.

We chase the wealth, we crave the fame,

We fight so hard to make a name,

We gather gold, we guard our pride,

With countless wishes locked inside.

We hurt, we heal, we love, we lose,

We make our choices, pick our views,

We spend our years in endless race,

To find success, to earn our place.

We buy the clothes, we build the homes,

We cross the seas, we proudly roam,

We fill our shelves with things we own,

Yet fear the thought of being alone.

We save for futures far away,

As though we own another day,

We postpone joy, we silence tears,

And make our plans for coming years.

We envy those who seem to rise,

We measure worth through others’ eyes,

We sacrifice the present hour,

For dreams of wealth, success, and power.

But time moves on, it never stays,

It takes our nights, it takes our days,

And while we think we have control,

The clock keeps moving, growing old.

One day, the hands will cease to turn,

The lessons we were slow to learn,

The world will carry on its way,

And life will bloom another day.

The house we built, the clothes we wore,

The wealth we guarded, every store,

The titles that we proudly claimed,

Will live without us, just the same.

Our keys will rest beside the door,

Our footsteps won’t be heard once more,

The rooms we filled with laughter’s sound,

Will welcome others gathered round.

And all the things we called our own,

The seeds we sowed, the wealth we’d grown,

Will stay behind when we depart,

While memories linger in someone’s heart.

So why this race to have it all?

Why fear the rise, why dread the fall?

Why trade our peace for one more prize,

When time is slipping past our eyes?

Perhaps the wealth that truly stays

Is kindness shown in ordinary days,

The hand we held, the tears we dried,

The love we gave, the times we tried.

For when the final page is read,

No crown is placed upon the dead,

No wealth can bargain, plead, or stay,

No worldly treasure comes our way.

We enter life with nothing earned,

And leave with nothing in return,

But if we leave some love behind,

Perhaps our lives were well designed.

So live a little, love a lot,

Cherish the things that can’t be bought,

For life is brief, though dreams are long,

And none of us knows when we’ll be gone.

In the end, when all is through,
The world keeps nothing just for you.
You leave your riches, your worries, your strife—
But how you loved is the story of your life.