““Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.””

Beneath the clamor of the world’s design,  
Where countless voices clamor and collide,  
There is a quiet current, deep, benign—  
The gentle call to know the soul inside.  

No gold nor laurel, praise nor pomp nor crown  
Can substitute the stillness of the heart  
That sits with shadows, does not turn them down,  
But names each piece and learns each battered part.  

Here wisdom grows: not out of distant stars,  
Nor in the echo of another’s creed—  
But deep within our ordinary scars,  
Where hopes have faltered, but our thoughts are freed.  

To see oneself, the roughness and the grace,  
Is to begin the patient, holy art—  
And wisdom’s dawn will blossom in that place:  
The quiet garden of a knowing heart.

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