Disrespectful

The quiet space where true worth resides,
unadorned by the trumpet's blast.
Modest heart, a clear, still pool,
reflecting sky, not self-glory.

Free of the need to boast,
to stand taller than the next.
A low opinion, perhaps,
of one's own towering importance,
a gentle lowering of the gaze,
yet eyes wide open, truly seeing.

Acknowledging the flicker,
the small spark in another's passing,
a nod to the individual threadwoven into the larger tapestry.

In the loud marketplace of society,
where lineage is weighed and named,
where the family emblem shines, or tarnishes,
the skilled hand, the bright mind,
choosing to draw back its own light.

This self-deprivation, a strange theft,
a hoarding of gifts meant for sharing.
Looking at the whole of it,
not just the polished surface of the name.

Rumors, like acid rain,
etch deep into stone,
tainting the history,
weathering the foundationsinto a surrounding that shrinks,
a slow, self-inflicted decay.

But humbleness,
it is the soil, rich and dark,
where gratitude takes root.

A mind thankful for the breath it draws,
for the bread on the table,
for the sun warming the skin.
Because in that deep appreciation,
a strange fulfillment blossoms,
a quiet strength that negates the risk.

Risk of adjusting, yes,
to the sudden spotlight,
the unexpected notice,
the environmental shift when one is seen.
The change in personality that follows,
the sudden awareness of what matters,
when, and where,
the silent agreement to simply be,
without demanding the echo of applause.

It is the slow, steady rhythmof a life lived in right proportion,
where the loudest voice is the inner whispersaying, Thank you.

rap, trap, 808, high hats snares