Poem: Intelligence

Not loud, nor proud, nor dressed in gold,
It doesn’t shout, it doesn’t scold.
It sits in silence, steady-eyed,
Where wonder lives and truths abide.

It’s not just facts, or books well read,
But how you think, and where you’re led.
The questions asked, the doubts you keep,
The thoughts that wake you from your sleep.

It listens first, then speaks with grace,
It sees the whole, not just the face.
It doesn’t chase the easy praise,
But works through thought in patient ways.

It builds a bridge from “why” to “how,”
And lifts the world without a plow.
Not brute, not boast, but mind refined—
A quiet flame, a sharpened mind.

It isn’t bound by age or name,
Nor seeks the spotlight’s fleeting fame.
It thrives where others fail to see,
And turns a key where none would be.

So let them race and claim the prize,
True intellect is slow and wise.
It shapes the future, thought by thought—
A power earned, and never bought.

Thank-you for reading.

Remember there are many paths back to God.

Follow your own path,

Brenda Marie


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