From me, To Me

A Poem

Photo by June Admiraal on Unsplash

It is difficult
To see a gift
As something earned.

When I was Young
People told me I was gifted,
Blessed,
And I never believed them.

But words descend upon me
The way the gravel drifts towards
The slopes at the side of the road;
Dragged by rain
From the sea,
Melting upwards
In the heat of the sun.

And you are gifted.

Mine eyes soak up the earth
And sponge the realms beneath
Conciousness.
Eyes gifted,
With visions of life as it truly is.
Or how it could be.