When just a child the poet's mom said "Son,
Throughout your life beware the sin of pride.
Remember this when every day is done,
What counts the most is who you are inside."

At first he thought his mother's words unfair
For recognition surely has its place.
In time he witnessed prideful thoughts can flare
When undue adulation supplants grace.

The poet took to heart his mother's words
Too many accolades can turn your head.
Vainglory flits away on wings of birds
What's left is mostly emptiness and dread.

Life immersed in modest exhibition
Satisfied with honorable mention