They swagger through the wastelands <br />of their own myth <br />believing the fantasy <br />they have built around themselves <br />of how great they are. <br />The shallow walls they built around themselves <br />with one stone could crumble away. <br />You see them in their peacock glory <br />prancing around everywhere. <br />Their heads stretched above the clouds <br />believing their own myth. <br />Their feet of clay can only erode <br />in the full flush of tidal waters. <br />Their peacock strut will become a limp <br />when their myth is broken <br />and things begin to challenge them. <br />For once, the tidal gate <br />is breached by leading questions <br />the clay feet and peacock strut <br />will be washed away, <br />and a new myth will absorb, <br />of bowing head and desperate look in eyes, <br />as their shallow walls crumble under tidal waters <br />and their own myth of self-greatness <br />loses momentum to sustain.<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/their-own-myth/
