Humbled
When young; the world was my oyster;
or, at least, so I had thought;
an underachiever; I lived in my cloister;
success was what I sought.
My life became an unfinished painting;
an empty canvas; bearing my name;
the real Artist; was the Lord, reigning;
while; my pride only sought fame.
Tho its seed was planted in my soul;
I never appreciated poetry;
for life; I sought a more worthy role;
rhymes never appealed to me.
A missing piece, to an unfinished puzzle;
I still had so much to learn;
my house of cards; needed a reshuffle;
I had nothing, but time, to burn.
My pride demanded a higher purpose;
success became everything;
truth and love had yet to surface;
my ego wished to be king.
I longed to taste those lips of love;
somewhere, awaiting me;
I looked for an angel from above;
but, I lacked humility.
All must have faith in God above;
to learn what life’s about;
success only brings slaves; not love;
all we need conquer is doubt.
Monty 3.16.26. # 3,204