The sea of life, is the sea of uncertainty.
The gift of charity, is the gift of hope.
Life is not written on a stone or in our hearts.
Life is a pen that never stops moving.
Life is the actions we take, the feelings we share.
NOTHING CAN TAKE THAT AWAY!

Spoil me with
One
    thousand
gifts

And fix my heart with
ribbon and tissue,
    All wrapped up
so
I don't lose the pieces

And
It's almost my birthday,

So Tell the little girl me
That
    the kids have just
woken up


And that the gifts are just
Waiting,
Broken and torn, and
    Opened... Already.


Just for me.

[prose poem]

          I never noticed how mine these hands are. There, glossy, rinsed clean. Do I want to move my fingers? They will. All of them, they will.
Underneath the water's gloss I see the lines; some ragged and some fine, some smaller and some smaller than the small.
          Though I am no author of what I own, I can see how precious is His gift– and it's been here all this time.
I don't need too look too far. Even for clothes or something to dine. Though I am content with those, I've had, here,
          these hands of mine.

Jehovah God gives people gifts, my gift is the ability to write.
When we think about what God does for us, it causes delight.
Albert Einstein wouldn't have been a genius without God's contribution.
Without Gods gift, he never would've known that E Equals MC Squared, he wouldn't have found the solution.
God gives a gift to each of us.
He does it because he loves us.
Some people may not believe what I'm saying but it's true.
I have two words to say to The Lord for my gift, "Thank You".

She had enormous wings, he could imagine,
how light it would to soar up and view
the world as one,  from above the clouds
that would make her feel blessed an envied
celestial being still walking firm footed on earth.
"Have you ever dreamed flying" he asked her
in a matter of fact way, concealing the wonder
the wings caused, but her words made him
think how strange the world is, she wasn't
aware of the gift of wings, pure white, delicate,
sturdy all the same, but the wings were not
a reality she appreciated, hasn't it ever come
to her notice? He looked in to the silence
of her eyes, was she keeping it as a secret?

Her wings were thin, shining silver petals
a rare flower, with a scent wafting everywhere
but by some quirk of fate, it wasn't there for her.

My light has to be hidden from each and every walk of life;
it is a target for the darkness and strong emotions of others that are rife.
My soul is too deep and fragile to be torn apart time and time again,
by impassioned people who end up causing unintentional pain.
I am crushed by the weight of the universe.
They say to be an empath is a gift - but to me it feels like a curse.

I was told to live each and every day as if it was a gift
A gift that cannot be returned or exchanged or replaced
But to enjoy it for all it has to offer
However there are still days where I wake
And want to drown my head in the tears that cover my pillow
Because I am only human
And sometimes the gift of life that were told not take advantage of
Time and time again
*****
It's terrible
Never ending
And leaves us in a mess
So when I turn my head towards the window
After a night of tears and sorrow
Is it so wrong of me to try and return it
Back to the sender
To not accept what has been given to me and instead
Sink myself back into that pillow I've grown to know as home.
A place where I can rest and hide with no fears
Of being found or forced to remain compliant
With the rules and ideals of life
Does it make me an outsider?
Someone who differentiates from the norm
Does this this mean that our society has grown accustomed
To a type of performance
One where we are all the actors and each day is just a new act
A new production
Where our body language is thrown out the door
Our inner feelings and thoughts are to be suppressed
Unless they make others feel comfortable around us
Since when is a smile not a smile any longer
And instead a show that is put on by others to hide what's really happening
Or to shelter how we are truly feeling
What makes it so wrong that a grown man can't cry
Without the risk of being told to "Man Up"
Last time I checked
All the great men in my life have shown emotion
And to those who help push this idea
The ones who etch these thoughts and opinions
Into the stone that is society
Stop and look at yourself
Take the time and think
I can guarantee there's been times in your life
Times that you've felt something deeper
A strong emotion that can not be contained
Constantly rattling the cage that is our bodies
Begging to be let out into the world
Or maybe I'm wrong
Maybe you feel nothing
Left numb to the thoughts of others
Thinking that if one can not contain what's inside them
Then they must learn how to conceal it
Lock the door that is their heart and mind
Leaving them bottled up
Until there is no life
Left to wither and die in the cage that contains them
Until eventually we are all left the same
However I don't agree with this view on life
If we feel something we should express it
If we want something then strive for it
Who are we to feel left alone in a world full of people
We are all different for a reason
We all find each other for a reason
Expression is what divides us
Expression is what unites us
Our only job is to never let it go
Never let someone take that from us
So on the days that death feels imminent
When all you want is to hide away
Don't
Instead use your dreams and aspirations
Pretend nothing is in your way
The problems of the present
Always become the past
And like the tears that soaked my pillow
Your problems will disappear through time
For if we let one gift of life pass us by
We could be missing out on a whole miracle or tragedy
Just waiting to happen