Envy's Vanity

With what sword, do men part what suffers,

as iron turns inward,

where bone, for flesh, buffers?

As they lunge upon others,

to steal what the heart, in frenzied flame, uncovers!

What pain of heart, stabbed me forth

into the cesspool of a gaze,

at what delights one can take, 

when in envy’s blinding haze!

If I myself wished for some joy,

or longed for a relief,

then ready shall I always be,

for the dread hour in disbelief:

at the sight of men, stealing humanity,

for none other than envy’s vanity!

What evil voices scream

in man’s itching ears,

to inflate his esteem,

to take, from another, his joy,

all in a dancing, malicious ploy!

Yet not me, nay, not I!

Not dead shall I be caught:

taking from another, even thinking, of

the elation he sought!

For what greater joy, have I, than

to watch another know

what for me, has been not?

And what deeper horror, know I,

than man’s sordid fate, the onslaught?

For my heart, has been a whole life

Broken,

yet on a bright and blue day,

my brother’s has now spoken:

“I jump for joy, for at last

I have warmth! 

I see, indeed, my coffin,

but for now, I know mirth!”

And like that,

His own heart, 

May at last, from sorrow

part.

And damned shall I be,

if I make him any way like me!

Nay, instead, shall I perch

atop a nice, sycamore tree,

and stay myself, aloft, 

to sing a song of the man, to Thee:

“I thank Thee, Lord,

that I am just like him;

that though sin choke my throat,

Ever in temple’s grace, I swim.

Yet strike my Publican breast,

a castle, sans moat:

A man, like him, too,

My own passions only, 

I rue.

So that

in a world of exceptions,

there stands a universal rule:

that those who so suffer,

never suffer themselves to be cruel!

So do I look with great joy, upon he

who goes his merry way,

with a blessing I once dreamed

would live, where my self,

I’d lay.”

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R.V. Smith, “Envy’s Vanity”, 08-04-24

© 2024 by Ryan Vincent Smith