Wanting what one can't have
Is an adventure made for Fools, like chasing Rainbows
Never seeing the Forest for the Trees
Always reveling in the highs and ignoring the lows

But it's a futile race for 2nd place ribbons made of disappointment and pain
And with a broken heart,
The thrill of the adrenaline will surely wither and quickly wane

But, there always seems to be just one more hurdle to span
While the runners never pace themselves, always sprinting as fast as they can
Panting and gasping all the way,
Desperately yearning for that glorious Finish Line
With noses flared and elbows flailing,
The sweat from their brows rendering vision blurried and blind
With hearts loudly thumping, afraid they'll be too late
Hurried and harried/ anxious and full of dread
Fools rushing in where the Wiser fear to tread

But, after all the hoping and pining, shattered dreams is one's final lot
Because there never was a treasure and no "X" to mark the spot
And when all the aches are tallied, one is still left empty-handed, alone and cold
Because at the end of the rainbow, there never was........a pot of gold