Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
Humble yourself,
For arrogance is a loud garment
often worn by those
whose pockets carry little substance.
You walk as though the world
spins at the command of your footsteps,
as though crowns of importance
rest invisibly upon your head.
Your voice rises with confidence
of someone who believes
They rule unseen kingdoms.
Yet pause,
and look again at the truth.
You are only a man
among billions of breathing souls,
an ordinary traveler
walking the familiar road of routine.
A worker bound to hours,
answering to the clock
that summons you each morning
and dismisses you each evening.
No empire answers to your name.
No business grows from your hands.
No streams of income flow quietly
through channels of your own creation.
You wait,
like many others,
for the monthly arrival
of a salary that visits briefly,
a guest that knocks, stays a moment,
then disappears into bills, needs,
and the quiet hunger of living.
Yet with this fleeting coin
You boast loudly,
as though wealth has crowned you,
as though your pockets hold
the measure of greatness.
Humble yourself.
For pride built on fragile ground
will crumble under the weight of time.
Remember,
every person walking this earth
is simply human,
a temporary breath beneath the sky,
learning slowly
that humility
is the truest form of dignity.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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