WHAT COUNTS

Count not your laurels by the eyes of admiration

That add to the ranks sowing false pride

Instead by the seeds of silent inspiration

You have grown out of sight by the wayside

Count not the weeds that bend at your beckon

The preening stalks that bow in obeisance

Instead be glad for the bloom invisible

That spreads your scent out of sight

Your clever deeds and your clever words

Will disappear one day swept by a broom

Held in the death-grip of your own ego

That plans everyday plotting your doom

Count then your journey and not the prize

For naked you came and naked will go

The lives transformed on merely a whisper

And the lives you have changed in disguise