Materialism or Mattering to Others

I lay in my coffin reviewing my legacy.





The only thing that mattered to me

was achieving more and more.

I accumulated and stored away

all the riches the world offered me.

Each of life’s temporary rewards-

money, fame, power- disintegrated

or fell into the hands of the undeserving.



For all I gained, I had nothing to show

because the only ones that really mattered

remembered me for what I lacked:

the kindness the poorest displayed,

the humility the richest mustered,

the sympathy the coldest imparted.



My quest for success cost me my value.

I never once offered what costs nothing:

a smile presented to a stranger,

a compliment to my rude neighbor,

a hug to the unsuspecting outcast.



What counted most in life was not

the dollars in my bank account

but the number of hands that

received my charitable outpourings.

What was important was not

my noted professional accomplishments,

but the influence I had on others.



What mattered was not my drive to succeed

but every act inspired by a need:

to demonstrate compassion to the unloved,

to show forgiveness to the condemned,

and give attention to the forgotten.





The rows of church pews were empty.

Rewrite 2012

I lay in my coffin reviewing my legacy.

The only thing that mattered to me
was achieving more and more.

I accumulated and stored away
all the riches the world offered me.

Each of life’s temporary rewards-
money, fame, power- disintegrated
or fell into the hands of the undeserving.

For all I gained, I had nothing to show
because the only ones that really mattered
remembered me for what I lacked:

the kindness the poorest displayed,
the humility the richest mustered,
the sympathy the coldest imparted.

My quest for success cost me my value.
I never once offered what costs nothing:

a smile presented to a stranger,
a compliment to my rude neighbor,
a hug to the unsuspecting outcast.

What counted most in life was not
the dollars in my bank account
but the number of hands that
received my charitable outpourings.

What was important was not
my noted professional accomplishments,
but the influence I had on others.

What mattered was not my drive to succeed
but every act inspired by a need:

to demonstrate compassion to the unloved,
to show forgiveness to the condemned,
and give attention to the abandoned.

I lay in my coffin reviewing my legacy.

The eulogy was read by a mere acquaintance
to countless rows of empty church pews;
my name would be forgotten before
the ink on the newspaper even dried.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by: "You will not be remembered for what you got, but for what you gave."

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