Crushed by the burden of my expectations
My humiliation is complete,
And I am descending into a dark pit
Of self-abnegation and contempt,
My self-esteem shattered into crystal shards
By the brutal hammer blows of fate.
A mere scientist, I am justly punished
For my insolent temerity
In believing, I could trespass in those fields
Reserved for more refined intellects
Honed in the arcane skills of philosophy,
Whose artistic sensibilities
Far eclipse my simple mechanistic mind.
Self-flagellation with barbed whips
Of self-loathing is not enough to atone
For these, my heinous crimes against art,
And salvation can only be truly found
In the simple love of the angel
Whose boundless generosity of spirit
Endlessly forgives my trespasses
And transforms the base clay of my lowly mind
Into a new creature of beauty
Framed in the image of her transcendent heart.
I cast myself down before her feet
Begging for acceptance and understanding,
Praying she will take me as I am,
For she is my sole hope of joy in this life,
And a shining path to heavenly bliss.

But her response to me is unexpected,
A rebuke where I want sympathy
And chastisement instead of comforting words.
My darling, she says, your cruel words
Are just not true, and they truly break my heart;
What drives you to treat me so badly,
Do you not respect the things I say to you?
It wounds me deeply my dearest man
That you seem so often to place more value
On the opinions of others,
Than you do on mine. Do you not realise
That I have given my heart to you
Unreservedly because of what you are?
My world is brighter because of you,
And you bring me such deep happiness and joy,
But sometimes you are like a spoiled child
Throwing a tantrum when you don't get your way.
Why must you always have to come first?
Your silly competitiveness is a flaw,
And though I know you cannot help it,
And that it comes from the dark side of your mind,
I do wish that you would listen to me
And accept that what I say to you is true.
Remember that a simple flower
Does not believe it is in competition
With the other flowers next to it,
It just blooms, and you are the brightest flower
There has ever been, believe me, I know.

Dearest and most precious man, she continues,
You are blind to your abilities,
Wrongly thinking that they are inferior
To those trained in the humanities.
How then did you become such a good teacher,
If it was not because of the skills
You developed through many hours of study,
Learning how to weave magic through words?
Hearing these wise words, I come to my senses,
Recognising the deeply held love
With which they are spoken, and I am humbled
And filled with contrition for the hurt
That I have caused her, the most noble spirit
That has ever lived. Her words are true,
I have indeed been behaving childishly,
My precious vanity offended,
And I deserve her rebuke for my bad grace.
As I ponder her words of wisdom,
Spoken with such truly caring graciousness,
All my ill humour evaporates,
And my turbulent soul is calmed and at peace,
Saved from myself by my dear angel.
I understand now that my mood of self-doubt
Was a form of madness of the soul,
And accepting the truth as seen through her eyes
In her simple faith, I find release,
And redemption from vanity and false pride,
Healed through her loving admonition.