'The Price Of Desire' Poem by Zahrin Nazah

We seek what we fear, and we miss what we crave,
The desires that haunt us, so distant, so grave.
For the thing that we long for slips further away,
Like a whisper that's lost in the break of the day.

We labor and strive, hands calloused and torn,
For the prize that awaits us, yet we mourn.
For the more that we gain, the less it feels right,
The hunger grows hollow, devoured by the night.

And once we have captured that which we desired,
The heart, now content, finds the spark expired.
What once burned with passion, a blazing fire,
Now flickers and fades, no longer to inspire.

Ah, how we toil for what's out of our reach,
And in getting it, we lose what we'd preach.
The longing subsides, and we turn from the feast,
As the joy of the conquest fades, to say the least.

An elegy for hope, now buried in dust,
For the things that we sought, no longer a must.
The world is a theater where we play roles,
But the act we perform leaves unfulfilled souls.

So, mourn not the goal, nor the dream you have chased,
For in chasing it, time is often erased.
We only find peace when we let go the race,
And embrace the quiet, the stillness, the grace.