Losing Face
The noble art of losing face
may one day save the human race
and turn into eternal merit
what weaker minds would call disgrace.
Words pointing…
The noble art of losing face
may one day save the human race
and turn into eternal merit
what weaker minds would call disgrace.
Our choicest plans have fallen through,
our airiest castles tumbled over,
because of lines we neatly drew
and later neatly stumbled over.
Problems worthy of attack prove their worth by hitting back.
I am a humble artist
moulding my earthly clod,
adding my labour to nature’s,
simply assisting God.
Not that my effort is needed;
yet somehow, I understand,
my maker has willed it that I too should have
unmoulded clay in my hand.
A bit beyond perception’s reach
I sometimes believe I see
that life is two locked boxes
each containing the other’s key.