The Gift

 

There’s a little girl crying
in pain and how she groans,
from the cancer inside her.
And time marches on.

There’s young man crying
on the school bus alone.
He’s bullied and broken.
Time marches on.

There’s a business man crying.
Something deep dark within,
is wrapped in confusion
of why he never fit in.

There’s a drunken whore crying.
Tears and vomit hide her face,
as the mans dirty fist
throws ten dollars in her face.

An old man is crying,
as he paces  through his home,
neglected and forgotten.
Time marches on.

Time marches on,
and it does not think or care,
about all of our sorrows,
or if life has been fair.

Don’t count your tears,
or waste time keeping score
of failures or blessings,
that you secretly hoard.

Time marches on,
and it doesn’t cash in
on secrets in your closet,
or your noble well fought wins.

You have a purpose
and a reason why you’re here,
but its not what you think,
nor is it what you feel.

You were given a gift.
And to see it uncovered,
is not for a show,
but its to give to another.

Do you hoard your gift?
Take a little time,
and ask yourself….to those who cry,
are you ever kind?

Do you give grace
to an addict or a thief?
Do you give to the needy
in humble secrecy?

Do you ever take time,
to smile and or say hello
to people who look different
or who walk a harder road?

Do you ever step up,
and stand with the weak,
while others point and judge
as you eat lunch with the freaks:?

Do you give respect
to those, who at first glance,
might look a little awkward
in society’s nice dance?

Time marches on.
Don’t waste life away
with self righteous pity
or prideful paydays.

Someone gave to you,
at some point, there’s no doubt,
a kind act that would stir
grace upon your route.

Time marches on,
and the time you have left
may not reach the morning.
Waste not the gift.