Sonnet: Material Things Are Not Permanent

Whatever wealth I’ve accrued in this world,
Whether hard-earned or by the easy route;
Whether in kind or currency wads, curled,
I must leave back to someone else like loot.

However much wealth I have earned on earth,
By sweat of brow or by my playing dice,
It will not help me gain an extra-breath,
Except a coffin made of teak wood nice.

Whatever treasures, I had to my name,
As gems or diamonds, silver or gold-form,
I leave them back intact in life's earth game,
In known or unknown places as per norm.

Then why this haste and frenzy for more wealth,
And that too at the cost of one’s own health?

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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