You have impressive talents, gifts to give;
That doesn't make you better than the rest.
Your wish to win the race, to ace the test
Eclipses your capacity to live.
You thrive on praise, but you are like a sieve--
Unsatisfied, you have to be the best.
The body and the mind with which you're blessed
Have drained you of the power to forgive.
Your wish for mystic union is sincere,
But, mired in your loneliness and pain,
You cannot see that it's your own disdain
That drives off your beloved as you near.
So take your time. Cling fast until the pride
No longer serves--then let it slide.
-- JJM = #52 in the I Ching Sonnet Project