He sits and struggles, wracking his brain;
He’s arrogant enough to dream of fame
and assumes that work will allow him to learn
the secrets of chocolate, stars and rain.
No matter how hard he works,
Those who have more talent will do
Whatever it is better than him.
They will not have earned a tiny parcel
Of that advantage, grace has put it there
And, no matter how hard he tries,
He can never make a miracle
Nor equal by sweat and tear
That which they found waiting for them
With wide open arms and a cheer.
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6 comments:
good poem Russell!
Wah, you are making me look so bad!! Poem after poem!!!
Hey Pat, Thanks!
I think we are talking imaginary discrepancies here, Aristocrat. Thanks for the great compliment!
Very true about most of us who think we could be world famous - then realize we don't possess a world famous sort of nature. The tragedy that separates our egos from our souls is abundantly clear in this work.
Yes Nick, you are right. Even for those who become world famous, still sometimes the magic works and sometimes (most of the time) it doesn't. Thanks for coming to read.
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