Fame

by Beulah Field — a poem card from Justes Mots

The speaker pursues fame (or desire) as a mirage across deserts and phantom paths, only to discover the pursuit itself was empty—called by 'a chill, spent wind.' A brief meditation on the illusory nature of ambition and external validation. It resonates with those questioning life's pursuits.

I lay on the edge of desert sands,
And watched It dance;
Mirage was painted before my eyes,
With brush of chance.

I followed the track of the Phantom
Down to the sea,
And found that only a chill, spent wind…

Themes: sympathy · grief · reflection · long-distance