Watching strange faces in a crowd,
I feel the owner's sense of unique grandness
even in the obviously desolate.
My judgments cause me to face the sad realization
that maybe I am neither grand nor unique as I had supposed.
In all of my brilliance,
the state of the world remains in change.
Nothing stays the same.
The consistent differences remain unaffected by me.
The homeless are still.
Hungry unfed.
Who am I,
but grand to the small circle around me?
Sobering.
Humbling.
I am small.