Ballad of Little Man

Once upon a time, there was this little man;
who built his home upon a hill of sand.
He worked, and he played, a little everyday;
and he reveled in the joy of his little plot of land.

His tranquility he sought, was not store bought;
not found in any market, not even within the sea.
His peace it seemed, was not when he screamed;
rather it came from knowing himself to be free.

Young he came to this little hill, to cast his lot at life;
with big dreams, huge hope, and a lot of pride.
Now weathered and beaten, but not dare defeated;
this humble, withered man sits, upon his porch, denied.

He lived a good and righteous life, before this man died;
his house crumbled, came crashing down today.
Only his memory remains, until I also pass away;
then nothing will remain, of this man's brief stay.