A Thought That Is Folly

Two feet in shallowed water, stand idle.

Curled toes caressing the sand, make prints.

But wander back to the shore, none follow.

Disappearing in sharp breaths, they leave.

Your impression leaves nothing, no trace.

Memories of hollow depth, are gone.

What sanction you held by time, drifts By.

Each vanish with mere toy steps, tides spent.

So throw away the fool's gold for it reaps no merit.

Only the heavy burden of age decrees wealth.

A stone's weight carries more in its stature than it does its density.

And your thought of leaving a mark was folly.

For the massive waves will always cast away the tiny sand.