So take your little trophy, hold it to the light,

So take your little trophy, hold it to the light, Smile for the cameras, step back from the mic. Swallow all the brilliance you rehearsed inside, Let the grand illusions quietly subside. If no one wants your gospel dressed in silk and youth, If wisdom sounds like vanity uncouth— Then bow your head, let the moment pass you by, Just say thank you. Don’t explain why. Maybe wisdom whispers, doesn’t roar. Maybe less is always more. Maybe truth arrives without parade, Unafraid of being unsaid. Maybe greatness isn’t loud, Maybe it kneels instead of proud. Maybe power isn’t speech— It’s knowing when not to preach. So take your little trophy, small and bright, Hold it gently in the fading light. Let the speeches die upon your tongue, Let the over-written lines go unsung. You don’t have to win the war of words tonight, You don’t have to turn their dark to light. If the room is tired and so are you— Just say thank you. That will do.