The Chase

We are born with empty hands

Yet taught to fill them fast

With gold, with praise, with fleeting things

As if they’re meant to last

We chase the shimmer in the sky

The titles, crowns, acclaim

But rarely ask the quiet why

Behind the need for fame

Is love a prize for those who win

Or does it bloom in loss

Do hearts align with what we earn

Or what we dare to toss

The brain may build a thousand roads

But only soul can steer

Emotion whispers what we miss

When logic shouts too clear

Each century rewrites our needs

From firelight to screen

Yet still we yearn for gentle hands

And moments in between

So, pause the chase, just for a breath

And ask what makes you whole

The things you hold, or those you touch

With tenderness and soul