In halls of light where virtue grows,
Intentions bloom like bright red rose,
Yet buried deep beneath their shade,
Lie seeds of cost we never weighed.
The heart that gives, unchained, sincere,
Will often fight what others fear,
But deeds once born from hope and fire
Can blaze into a funeral pyre.
A mother dreams, with gentle hand,
To shield her child, to help him stand—
She builds a world where pain is spared,
Yet leaves him soft, untried, unprepared.
The soldier marches off to war
To fight for peace, what heart beats for—
Yet every bullet, each lost name,
Adds shadows to the peace he claims.
A preacher speaks with holy flame
To lift the fallen, cleanse the shame—
Yet dogma, wrapped in moral pride,
Can burn the bridges truth would guide.
We raise the poor with food and aid,
But never ask the price that's paid—
Dependency replaces will,
As dreams grow quiet, soft, and still.
A lover fights to hold their own,
To never let the bond be thrown—
But love that grips with fear and chain
Will trade devotion in for pain.
The teacher gives her all to youth,
To feed them facts, to teach them truth—
But truth, untempered, cold and raw,
Can wound the soul without a flaw.
Intentions bright, intentions pure,
Do not exempt, nor always cure—
For goodness clothed in blindness still
May walk the road of unseen ill.
We plan, we hope, we vow, we strive
To keep the sacred dream alive—
But rarely pause to weigh the sum
Of what we lose by what we’ve done.
To help a friend, we blur a line,
We lie to spare, pretend it’s fine—
But kindness born from fear to harm
May rob the truth of all its charm.
A leader climbs with vision clear,
To lift the masses, quell the fear—
Yet power bends the noblest spine,
And hearts forget the holy line.
A doctor heals with steady hand,
Yet God-like pride may soon command,
And what began to soothe the weak
Becomes a silence none may speak.
The cost is not in gold or time,
Nor just in loss, or acts, or crime—
It hides inside the lives we've touched,
The ways we gave, we took too much.
It lives in tears not meant to fall,
In voices gone from crowded hall,
In choices made with open eyes
That wore the mask of sweet disguise.
What makes intent a sacred flame
Is not its spark or hopeful name—
But how it bears the weight it breeds,
The ground it breaks, the soul it feeds.
The mother learns, with tear-streaked face,
That love must let, not just embrace.
The soldier sees the eyes he stilled—
That peace is more than wars fulfilled.
The teacher turns from tests and charts
To see the beating childlike hearts.
The lover learns to stand alone
And let what's true be freely known.
We do not fault the hearts that try,
That reach to lift, that dare to cry—
But still we must, with careful tread,
Be mindful where our good has led.
For hell, they say, with sorrow's voice,
Is paved by hands that meant no choice—
That helped and healed and lit the flame
But never looked beyond the frame.
So ask yourself before you give,
Before you bend, before you live—
Not only why, but what it brings,
And who might bear the cost of things.
For goodness is a precious stone
That shines the most when carved alone,
By wisdom's hand, with vision wide,
Not just the heart, but also guide.
The cost of good is not regret,
But debt we leave, or soon forget.
To act with grace, with noble aim—
Means carrying both pride and blame.
Not every wound can be excused
By saying "I just meant no bruise."
Intentions kind must still be wise,
Or blind good hearts may moralize.
So pause before the bridge you build,
And check if rivers must be stilled—
For some who cross may pay your toll
In ways that scar their mind and soul.
Intentions pure, the highest start—
But wisdom must complete the heart.
Short Summary :
“The Cost of Good Intentions” explores the paradox that even the most well-meaning actions can carry unintended consequences. Through a series of examples—from mothers, soldiers, teachers, and lovers—the poem illustrates how kindness, love, or ambition, when not tempered by wisdom, can unintentionally harm those it seeks to help. The core message emphasizes that good intentions alone are not enough; they must be paired with awareness, humility, and responsibility. The poem warns that the true cost of our choices often lies in overlooked outcomes, urging readers to consider not only their motives, but also the full impact of their actions.
About the Creator
Jacky Kapadia
Driven by a passion for digital innovation, I am a social media influencer & digital marketer with a talent for simplifying the complexities of the digital world. Let’s connect & explore the future together—follow me on LinkedIn And Medium



Comments (1)
A little bit cynical maybe, but also challenging.