My Quest for Humility

I sometimes sit in front of my computer, staring at the screen; hands on keyboard, unmoving; mind thinking, recalling past personal literary successes, I wish I could write beautifully again. I’d log onto Facebook, or perhaps and do their typing tests, pretending — wishing — the words I typed spewed from my own mind.

How I wish I could be famous for the magnificence of my literature; for the genius of my person…

If only I could be loved and respected as would one who had found the cure for cancer and gave it away for free. And if I were, I promise I’d remain humble; like how a snowflake, a tree, or a mountain, for all their natural majesty maintain themselves as themselves, and never think, I am greater than thou.

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