Friday, January 15, 2016

Conceit and humility

There isn’t a single voice from deep space, proclaiming

Its vastness and grandeur, every heavenly body bows down

To its fundamental laws, that’s the power of silent humility

A portable universe is carried by everybody, on a temporary lease

For us to use and enjoy, but the voice box of the mind

Full of throaty thoughts, proclaims with a conceited tone

Rippling through the mind, a sense of ownership over time

The body isn’t won through a hard fought battle

But a chance gift, a vehicle whose engines we have scuttled

Making it an empty shell, echoing praises and airing dreams

Now a seat of conceit, but the sky laughs, one day our bodies

Will melt into the muddy terrain, restoring the quiet calm, in place of us