“It’s all about your reach,”
The old man told me.
And for years I thought
He meant my wing span and stride
I strode and I expanded my arms and
My ego swelled and swelled.
Time passed and I decided my reach
Was what I could grasp and bring close.
I reached and competed with others’ capabilities,
Pulled everything I could to myself.
When I accepted I was still no happier,
I recalled that the old man had few possessions.
Worry that I misunderstood
What I should reach for
Consumed me in sadness as
I cast everything off.
But, reach for what?
Searching in every corner.
I strived and stretched.
I extracted every intangible I imagined,
Experience, knowledge, spiritual attitudes,
That could extend my reach in
Life, but for not.
I could think of nothing more.
Despair looked back at me from every aspect.
I finally got it the day I found myself, for the first time,
In front of his grave seeking inspiration and answers.
The marker simply said:
“TOUCHED MANY LIVES”