A Tryst with Terror

Years of endless study and toil,
And profuse sweating upon hard soil,
Never ending, long pages,
Of books and journals weighing tonnes,

Work filling libraries,
And money that's filled banks,
And before I turn to pat myself for these,
I hear, so close, a sneery voice,

It isn't evil for I know it means well,
But it holds the power to crumble,
The castle of appreciation I built for myself,
All this with just words that're chiseled,
Words such words that are but blunt,
Yet sharper than any I've heard,

I cannot escape it, for it speaks from within,
Aiming for that pride by which I've been smitten,
It raises its inevitable hand, striking terror in my soul,
Driving out every thought, every dream and goal,

It shakes the very foundation of my person,
Roaring its might to the chest that's swollen,
Threatening my arms that built for me my house,
Not the building, though, for in me lies my arrogance,

The fear that comes, it conquers and quells,
Chasing my identity out, in my heart it dwells,
Challenging the independence that I'd boasted of for so long,
Proving to me that my assumptions were all wrong,

I sit here, thanking fate for this rock,
Panting for breath sans thought of clock,
I bend, in all humility, forgetting my achievements,
Bowing down to the universe that can slay me any second.

5:12pm on 3.6.2017