Skies were periwinkle and divine,

children laughed and played,
spending the blissful evenings
under the twinkling heavenly beacons.

Of these minors existed one child,
dreaming to touch silver and gold,
but only grasping sand and straw.

In the midst of winter he left as an adult,
in a pursuit to find wealth,
abandoning all his possessions,
leaving only the meek dove bird,
which fought tenaciously against those
who disbelieved its hopeful purpose,
as it patiently waited for the man to return.

And return he did, as time elapsed,
missing that sweet part of his home,
the part of his heart he once left behind.
Yes, he had touched silver and gold once and for all,
but he found it caused him no glee.

Upon reaching his land, he wailed and sobbed,
realizing his gravest mistake,
for what he foresaw was not the truth,
no matter how much wealth he obtained,
it held not a sliver of happiness,
unlike his home, the greatest hope of all.