As a youth with little a plan, My dad oft-asked, “What footprints are you going to
leave in the sand?”
It meant little then, But with time, it became a motivating line.
If up to me, What will be, My ultimate legacy?
A legacy for me, It would seem, A far off, lofty dream.
After all, who am I? I’m just average, Somewhat shy.
Then I realized something, you see, It is up to me, My ultimate legacy.
My grandchildren and great-grandchildren, What will they see and think of me? What is my legacy?
Will they see that I pursued my dreams, Or that I settled, For something in-between?
That I lived a life doing what I loved, Or one filled with, Should’ve, could’ve?
Footprints remain for all time, So I can’t commit, The ultimate crime.
What is that crime, you say? It is, of course, Not seizing the day.
Yes, before I die, I’d rather fail, Than not even try.
I will reach for the sky, Laugh, And cry.
I’ll cry from joy, not sorrow, Because I lived for today, And planned for tomorrow.
My legacy, You see, Is truly up to me.
That’s my view, But now I ask, What will you do?
Poem by Erik Qualman
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