Humbled

The layers of bullshit

We pile on ourselves

And on our kids

Is a curse

 

Our pride

In ridiculous stuff–

Good looks, intelligence

Family wealth, gender…

 

All unearned “attributes”

And yet we preen

As if we are the artist, author

Of what was random

 

Our DNA is happenstance

A roll of the dice

We had nothing to do with it

Don’t take a bow

 

Let’s see what we can do

From the bottom of the barrel

With no silver spoon

Or pretty face

 

Where is the authentic self

When our superficial

Societal approved aspects

Are squashed?

 

Refuse compliments–

Our looks or smarts

Or what money bought us

Are false advantages

 

Being encased

In a hard shell of privilege—

Handicaps us from knowing

Our true inner compass

 

Breaking out of the comfort

Of that pride-curse

May be the only real thing

We’ll ever do

 

Not only drunks

Have a rock bottom

Egoic death precedes

The rise of the phoenix

 

So let’s applaud those

Who have risen

Out of the ashes

With nothing gilded

 

Birth and pain are synonymous

Without false pride

Our compass will point

To compassion…every time.

 

061325 bjb