In each life's quest, unique paths unfold,
Yet one truth remains, unwavering, bold.
Amidst tales of men who've traded their soul,
Surface appearances may oft deceive, we're told.
Not all that gleams with a golden hue,
Holds the substance and worth that rings true.
For within gilded tombs, lies naught but decay,
Worms, the silent heralds, claim their final sway.

Had we possessed wisdom as daring as youth,
In limbs strong, while judgment spoke truth,
Our answers would be etched in ancient scrolls,
But alas, our journey's pages, the wind now strolls.
Farewell, dear ambitions, as our pursuit grows cold,
Time slips away on the wings of vain-nity, we're told,
A labor lost, indeed, in the clutches of frost.

Everyone treads their path, unique, unswayed,
Yet Death's embrace awaits, undeterred, unfrayed.
What accounts shall we offer, once life's curtain is drawn?
A leap of faith, yet no bungee cord, not a bond.
As the future unfolds, mirroring our origin's lore,
Reason and faith lost, a civilization's core,
A generation labeled, entitled and remiss,
Yet let us pause, reflect, dispel this amiss.

The hunter's blame befalls the prey, unaware,
Birds of all feathers, converge in their earthly affair.
And in due time, true worth shall stand tall,
Rewards bestowed, earned, by each heart's recall.
For it is in the balance of merit we find,
A legacy shaped by one's own design.