A Land of Giants

So frail I stand in a land of giants
My words quite pale against their bilious rants.
In my mind I am filled in abundance
In theirs I am only an aberrance.
What I feel is brilliance
They treat as excrements,
And the works that I think are great monuments
Are measured as rubble in unholy judgements.
When I swell up in pride of my latest performance,
I'm coldly brushed aside as a petty annoyance.
I try once again after I've made some adjustments
Only to face more of their mirth and resentments
Until I give up and leave with reluctance
To stand alone with no more utterance.

Ron Reece

(c)2000; Ron Reece
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