Proof

The question hangs, a whispered plea,

"What are you trying to prove, you see?"

But deeper still, a question lies,

To whom do you display these skies?

I really hope, with fervent heart,

The answer's you, right from the start.

For if it's others you implore,

Your worth won't bloom, it will not soar.

It isn't blame, no fault to find,

Just different maps within the mind.

I see the years as fleeting dust,

A blink of light, a matter of trust.

I cannot spend this precious breath,

To validate myself in life's long death.

What phantom prize, what hollow claim,

Would justify this fruitless game?

Is proof in houses, rich and grand?

Is wealth the measure, grain in hand?

If so, I'd trade it all, I vow,

For happiness and health, right now.