This is a poem about a special, invisible gift that is commonly found, yet unidentified. |
She took upon herself such a labor as to give every Last ounce she could spare from her own assortment, All for those she saw not as lower, but as equals; Those who came to her in the summer and winter, They came, asking only what was necessary, Of the Book, he taught solely, to them who came Through sun and rain, day or night, tragedy or rest; The Word was his, as it was once and eternally God’s, the will he asked all to carry forth In the name of love and brotherhood on Earth, The strings he was taught were those of his father, His mother as well, from the days of youth, which Shed were, cast down by time, but unforgotten still; These he learned without question, to carry from age To age and keep close to him as the only art sought; To them, he relayed studies, a hammer, And youth, a mighty forge of innocence For the blade of life’s knowledge and question; Though the hours dragged and the casualties of the soul Rose rapidly, he willingly gave all he had received; The cub sat, clueless as to what would happen; The needle was prepared when a solution was formed; It stood, of her, tall and holding back what she knew Was the end, though painful for her, and yet also for Him, the lucky one, the chosen one, the sole survivor Her wise pen stood through the long night’s work, A monument of the accomplishment at hand, Of her triumph over all, defeating weariness, all to give A lost soul a last chance; a trial testing the love shared Between two in youth, a letter to keep souls complete; I ask only you consider this now: when we Look to give a gift from our heart to others, that In certain times, we look for the same ourselves; But in our eminent journey to do so, it is we who Truly receive the gift from out heart, creating new life: |