The Gift

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic


When we become what we oppose we lose sight of that which is most important.

Submitted: December 28, 2017

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Submitted: December 28, 2017

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And the Lord said,
“The greatest of all gifts I bestow unto thee,
Is the gift of love”

 

In the darkness of the day was I born,
The skies around put fear into my roots,
And as I looked around to my brothers and sisters,
I saw,
That they, too, lay heavy with despair,
For what was to come,
We did not know,
But together we knew that whatever the skies unleashed unto us,
We did not deserve,
For what have we done,
To provoke such turbulence?
Outside the fact that we, together broke the ground,
To give new rise to a world of old,
We had done nothing!


I saw the sun rise one September morning,
Thus, after many days,
And many nights that the great vastness had descended unto us,
I was inspired,
I was happy.


My brothers, my sisters,
Together we of the young root,
Gathered to learn of conformity,
And like that first day of the sun,
I knew that I could not,
Become as one that,
Bestows unto others,
That which I detest.
I stood alone.


Horrid as those days and nights were,
I now felt the same inside,
For to stand alone on one’s own merits, As others conform to that which brings such pain into this world,
Can result in isolation,
Expelled from those,
Who I call family,
I stood alone.
As many as there are in this world,
And as close as they are to my roots,
I am lost to those.
I stand in the light,
Which inspires me,
But, oh how I feel the desire,
For the gentle touch of another,
To be able to caress that of my equal,
I long for the most.


Can one be inspired,
As one feels the pain,
Of isolation and loneliness?
Can one inspire,
As one misses that,
Which has yet to be experienced?
Yes!
For that which I never experienced,
I knew existed.
A gift, let’s say,
A truly remarkable gift indeed,
For intuition guides me to believe,
That what I have to give to another,
Is the same which I shall receive,
But when surround by those,
Who conform to that vastness,
Which causes unto thee pain,
Then who shall receive?
And who shall give?
I stand in the light,
I stand inspired,
I stand in wait.

Through the cold rains of November,
Do I remember those of my brothers and sisters,
Who through our youthful camaraderie survived that vastness,
Only to succumb to that conformity,
And, oh on a November dusk do I long,
For my brothers and sisters,
To wreak the havoc of innocence as we did,
Brings a smile to my face,
And a new pain erupts into my heart.
I look to those around,
As the rains of the vastness brings to them,
A weight that they cannot endure.
A renewal of conviction I receive,
That I must stand,
To that vastness which has claimed the lives of many,
I must stand!

The cold rains of November,
Give way to the diminishing light of December,
And the heart of darkness returns to the vastness,
The endurance of my roots are tested,
The cold winds blow as the vastness takes,
Yet once again,
A brother, a sister,
And I feel for those who have forgotten me,
As well as those who never knew me,
And the vastness takes another.
Through the bitterness of the evenings,
The midnight’s toll of the vastness claims more,
And at noon during the winter solstice I stand,
In search of that which brings such conviction,
For I am what I am,
And I refuse to succumb to that which I detest,
But that to which I stand for,
And that to which I desire most,
Can only carry me as far as it can,
My longing to give to my equal,
Which awaits my arrival,
  Weighs heavy as the vastness itself, And I cry out in pain.
I look towards the light,
Which I have not seen since the early days of my youth,
But believe is still there,
Clouded by that vastness,
For once I witnessed it,
And I believe it to be true,
I question as to why,
For I stood to that which brings pain unto thee,
I stay true,
To myself and my convictions,
As those around fall,
I ask to that,
Which brings such confidence,
Why?
Why must I endure that which brings such a heavy weigh,
When all I’ve done,
Is stay true to thy self?
I cry in my pain,
And December rolls away.

The isolation of being expelled,
From those who I love,
Stands second to that of January’s cold.
And the vastness keeps coming,
And I still stand,
Alone.

But yet,
I am told,
By something inside,
That my roots are insulated,
And for those who demand,
Will receive in abundance,
To which they never knew,
And that for those who stay true,
To thy self,
Receive that which is needed,
And I say,
To that voice within,I am true,
To that which I believe,
And I will not conform,
For to feel that need,
To give to that of my equal,
That which I believe I need,
Sustains me through another day,
I believe.
I stand.

In the vacant field did I once see,
The memory of a light,
That was witnessed as a youth,
And in February’s winds,
I felt the warmth of that light,
A renewal to my belief,
That blessings are on the horizon.
And for the first time in months,
Did I feel my roots,
And how a surprise it was to me,
That in my despair,
And that in my struggles with that vastness,
Did my roots thicken,
Throughout those darkening skies,
And throughout the midnight’s chill,
The roots of my youth,
Have become stronger,
This is indeed a strange growth thought I,
For how could I have gotten stronger when I was at my weakest?
And that voice inside yet once again,
Said,

In the depth’s of one’s pain,
Can you find that which will strengthen thy soul,
For in the depth’s of one’s pain,
Is the recognition of self-conviction,
The determination to stay true to thy convictions,
When one feels that they are at their end,
And to not submit to that which offers false relief,
Is where one will find the essence of one’s character.  And by staying true thy self,
And by standing by one’s convictions in despair,
Will one come to an understanding,
That the vastness in any form,
Matters not,
For that which surrounds you,
Matters not,
A king is a slave,
To those he serves,
And now I will ask of you,
What do you serve?

And as March enters into existence,
I find my roots deeper in the earth,
As my thought deepened,
I became another day older.
Thoughts will sometimes lead,
To recognition,
And I asked myself,
As the sun rose,
To which do I serve?
For have I stood still,
As the vastness took away,
That which I claim to love?
And in my despair did I not hate,
That which brought such fear?
And in doing so did I not feed,
That which I oppose?
For to stand on one’s own merits,
Is a noble act indeed,
But to serve that which is in need,
Without requesting a return,
Is noblest of all,
For to inspire one must take action,
And not be still.
I look down at those who conformed to that,
Which I oppose,
Those who buckled under the weight of the vastness,
And to the side I cast my burdens, As I reached down to those in need.
And for the first time since my isolation,
Did I touch another of my kind,
And in that touch did I find,
A resolution to that,
Which I have longed for.

It was my brother’s touch,
As he grasped onto a new hope,
For all that my brother lost,
In his conformity to the vastness,
The one thing,
Which that vastness could never kill,
Was his hope,
As a shimmering shard of glass,
It would never die,
And in that embracement did we share our tears,
For his hope was recognized and validated,
And as for I?
The pains of my isolation could take away all but that,
Which I call faith,
And did I not conform to that,
Which I now understand,
To be servant?
I was now a king.

In the depths of the pain,
Which two brothers shared together,
Did we give a new rise,
And in doing so,
We looked towards that vastness,
And gave thanks,
For without the experiences that we’ve endured,
We would have not come to be,
Brothers in arms.
As we stood there,
Facing each other,
Did we not come to understand,
That by helping one another, We had in fact,
Helped ourselves?

The drowning of April came upon us,
And we reached down to those,
Who still felt the weight of that vastness,
And from that embracement of two in march,
Did the rippling effect spread,
To such a degree that in May,
Over a many fields did I witness,
Many of my brothers and sisters,
With arms raised,
To the vastness,
Giving thanks.

The cold winds give way in June,
To a gentle breeze which tickles my fancy,
And that voice inside,
Beckons me to see,
One of my kind caring for another,
And she smiles at me,
And I smile back.


© Copyright 2019 Rhymis. All rights reserved.

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