Thursday, 13 November 2014
02:42:13 AM (GMT)
Coping with insignificance
“Once upon a midnight dreary,”
Weak and weary?
Dead and dreamy.
With a mind in the deepest black void of space
And a mouth, thinking aloud:
“Will something make me magnificent?”
Will I write like Poe,
Play like Beethoven,
Or paint like van Gogh?
Teaching myself to come to terms with the fact that
I am merely mediocre in the eyes of the world
Is a concept I’ve forced myself to embrace.
I’ve trained my mouth
To counter my brain’s sparkling optimisms
With cold-hearted pessimisms.
“Think of Gandhi:
What one man could do!”
My brain would offer.
“And think of the odds:
One in a billion”
My mouth would mutter back in a desperate voice,
Wanting more than anything
To accept the hope of someday being significant,
But knowing I simply was not meant for that fate.