Death of the Ego

I stand on a mountain with my chest puffed out

I stand as a heroine

as a Queen and an untouchable thing

I hold my nose in the air as I smell the stench of other peoples offenses

fearing them

avoiding them

refusing to even look at them

…..even hating them

I hold my nose assuming the stench is from everybody else

until a spotlight is held upon the mountain from which I stand

suddenly I see the refuse of my own waste

My own colossal mountain of rubbish that came from me…was made by me.

The Spot light which at first I enjoyed in my pride

I now wish I could run from, because it reveals my shame to all!

The Spotlight has become the murderer of my pride

But oh how it has enlightened me to feel compassion

and again I stand here shaking my head at my own error and arrogance and ask you for your forgiveness.

Spirit….I wish there was another way.

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