You marvel at me and the gifts that I’ve been
And wonder if striving is somehow a sin
But sin is rebellion from highest and best
The answer’s not found in the slothful at rest.
When whining, reclining, and shining allure
Us talkers and thinkers in life become poor
Courage, engagement, and humble respect
Are life-given to us – His image reflect.
Some think that competitive race has no merit
With long walks in rain as 'the gift of The Spirit'
The Socialist answer – resources all pooled,
The Capital-Mogul an ultimate fool.
But folks who think that way should look in the mirror
And ask if their sin makes that way any dearer
A place for the group is of value no doubt
But stifling the race makes the life-light go out.
That day when I gave you the Book of The Ages
Then later the Wisdom and Insights of Sages
I started you off with the Shepherd’s first Psalm
Of a tree by the water – how he got along.
You opened me up to compassion’s deep pool
How putting down roots is not symbol of fool
You softened perception showed loyalty higher
Than scorching, like Swift, all your friends with your fire.
But greatest of all of your gifts given to me
Is the way you’ve allowed me my vision to see,
To speak freely, question, and wonder some more
Then act on some thought which for you held low store.
The six weeks you gave let the river run through
Swept errors aside of less value to you
And opened up life in explosive degree
A lifetime of research from records set free.
The British compete with ferocious conviction
Then all share together without a restriction
How victory won, so that next season’s game
Excels what’s been done – so is never the same.
Professions today are in rapid decline
As science sweeps forward and seizes our minds
So silent the counsel – ‘not sphere that you choose,
More highest and best – as it flows out of you’.