We chase shiny coins down endless alleys.
Dopamine whispers louder than we expect.
A promise hums, sweeter than delivery.
It’s not the touch, but reaching for it.
A string tugs at the base of ribs,
pulling us forward, hands outstretched,
like moths magnetized to imagined light.
Desire blooms faster than it fades away.
The prize, though it gleams, feels faint.
The wanting, though invisible, glows wild.
Each step forward, another made of ache.
Each step forward, the ache feels holy.
We’ve learned to call this drive ambition.
A constant hunger mistaken as hunger.
The end evaporates against our palms.
It’s the reaching that makes us alive.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: December 12th, 2025 10:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments2
Neither good or bad on its own ambition can be guided by noble or nefarious motivation. A good read
Thanks Soren I appreciate your feedback brother
Most welcome Gray
This is so interesting it really makes me think. Especially the last line: "It's the reaching that makes us alive." I think maybe that's why people continue to scroll on their phones, hoping to find more and more of what was promised, or why the drinker gets drunk again, it's not being drunk that they enjoy but the promise of not having to think anymore. Well done!
Right On thank you for sharing your feedback
Of course!
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