I love the world that humbled me
along my march toward 33,

a time so prime, profuse with pride,
when confidence intensified

and knowledge lead me to exalt
my educations to a fault.

In truth, I had to learn much more
than anything I read before,

experiences still to gain,
mistakes to make, the novel pain

of giving up some foolish dream
then tread the edge of self-esteem

and reckon with the emptiness
where suppositions evanesce.

I took such pleasure in a fact,
the trivia I could extract,

my theories of the cosmic ways
among those bold, conceited days.

I'm just a student, one who sees
the paradox of Socrates,

to understand I do not know
and yet enlighten as I go

to question things (myself as well),
mull modestly, and rarely dwell

at any point of prominence.
No humbled heart wants dominance.