"Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay."
Robert Frost
I want gold to stay.
Believing that gold goes away is the saddest thing.
Surely some gold stays, doesn't it?
What would be the point of being here?
So while the poem is thought-provoking and lovely -- it's only words.
We need to make our own gold stay -- at least as much as we can.
Be your own gold.
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