The delusion of grandeur is
the slave collar of ignorance
Find your place amongst the rubble of humanity and be content.
Your lot of clay is no better than his lot, is no better than her lot,
How society forgot.
That we all come from a conjugal clot,
The expulsion of our parents, in moments hot,
If weren’t joined, as separate entities rot,
And what are we, but an accidental plot,
Chances of biochemical, physiological, DNA, knots,
We try to take more than what the world wants to allot,
And all we deserve are minuscule slots,
We’re nothing special, grand we’re not,
No matter how high you rise, back down to earth,
For us all, a rectangular six feet deep spot.
The Philosopher, Michel de Montaigne said it best:
‘to learn that we have said or done a stupid thing is nothing, we must learn a more ample and important lesson: that we are but blockheads… On the highest throne in the world, we are seated, still, upon our arses.’ And, lest we forget: ‘Kings and philosophers defecate, and so do ladies.’
So take a seat, your mother and father lied to you, you’re not special, no one is. Your misery, your loneliness, your woes at finding true love are all reflections of the excess of self importance. You’re replaceable, we all are.
Your self worth is not determined by you, it is determined by those who want a piece of you, how far they are willing to bend themselves towards or for you.