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Tuesday, 3 November 2009

A false prophet

You reveal Yourself to Your seeker
In small phases:

In thoughts sometimes;
Sometimes in spurts of wisdom.
Sometimes through momentary flashes of enlightenment.

Man takes that as a Sign
He puffs himself up,
Considers himself privileged:
A prophet even.
He deludes himself
Gives himself false security.
Nothing can go wrong.

All his friends become lesser beings -
Almost despicable.
He struts around like a peacock
Patronising. Arrogant.

Then comes the fall -
He falls on his face
Flat on his face,
His face in the mud.

Hopefully --- he has learnt a lesson.

1 comment:

  1. These again, are my musings on the train - between Clapham Junction to Brondsbury Park - on the Overground.

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