Keep it honest, maintain it humble.
Let it show... From deep within...
Fabricate if you must, adorn with tassels.
First know the seed before you begin.
Let it sprout wings, in your cradle.
Let soar from emotions and thoughts akin.
Let honesty shine forth from the rubble,
Let humility speak in volumes of what we mean.
I wish I arrived at humility out of love,
minutes often I arrive at its doors
through the pain of humiliation.
My self righteous anger brought me
to this moment of the beauty of humility
as I cradle my bruised hand after punching a wall.
I am a human being that makes mistakes,
and the beauty of a spiritual life happens
through progress not perfection.
I am growing little by little,
and slowly breaking the cycle of violence
passed from my father, passed to him by his father...
I cannot spiritually grow alone and without help.
The beauty of humility is that I am not alone, and
I am neither the worst or the best. I am human.
The crown of my unrighteousness pierced Thy skull,
And drops of blood flowed into the veins of Thy brain,
Quite often I please the ruler of the flesh,
But all my ways ripped the heart of the Redeemer.
Thou wert stripped when I am shrouded with iniquities,
Thou wert spit when I choose the fleshly acts,
Thou wert scorned for my fruitless words,
My sins of pleasure nailed Thy palms on the Cross.
Intermittently I let the spirit of evil into my soul,
And how often Thou wert lashed by filthy transactions,
Thou wert kicked with the filth of my boot,
With my heart of pride Thou wert slapped.
Thou hast created me and all within;
Yet Thy Love for Thine made the Way with Thy humility.
There is something magical
in the whirring
of a midday laundromat.
A cessation of pride,
People all dressed in sweatpants
the air full of detergent smell
and the sound of coins clicking
against great tumblers
as they go round
The people smile back,
no use pretending superiority here.
Whistlers twitter on, folding towels and socks into neat, organized piles.
The children are well behaved,
their hands full of potato chips
given by their parents as a pittance for their patience.
The patient patrons
their empty hands crumpling receipts.
This, with the crunching of chips
and the distant whistle
over the percussion of clicking
in a dryer
compose an unintentional opera,
an ode to humility.
Humility's honorable honesty heals humanity's hubris.
Noisy trucks pass outside the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows,
Where the hot air wreaks its violence
and men make their ways
Yet another day of pain was put behind,
She lets out a sigh of relief as if the beast
That stalks her is duped for now, once more.
The last Metro train that night, slows down,stops.
To return to her regular prison she gets in hurriedly.
Emptiness bares it's fangs, that looked sweet in fact,
In comparison with the experiences of the day gone.
A suspicious bundle on the floor stirred at her touch,
A frail women almost frozen,living dead, eyes sunken
in sockets." How did you end up here?" she quarries.
"I fainted, didn't eat anything, for the past few days"
"Mother, you need to drink something hot quick.
Come with me I'll take care" her eyes get moist.
Then she smiles thinking how fortunate she is.
"My share of sweet misery is here to teach me
practice humility, even in an empty compartment"