The Gift

Here we walk, as though
we are the Lords and Masters of the Earth, shrouded
in a fog of forgetfulness
remembering not from where all things come.
Every delicate breath
each impossible sunrise
and burning sunset.
Every blade of grass and
every curve of every petal of every flower.
Have they not all been given
by a generous and mysterious hand?
A gift?
What of the air that fills our lungs?
The sustenance which pushes
through soil or hangs
like jewels from bushes and branches?
Has this not all been given, too?
We could argue, maybe, that
there are things that we have created ourselves,
things that were not given freely this way.
But from where did our ability to create come?
From where did the possibility for any of it come?
Finally, as the light pours in,
we will find ourselves swept away by
tears of gratitude, as we stand
and turn in circles, realising
with heart-breaking clarity that everything,
absolutely everything,
is a gift.
This is a gratitude that shatters the heart.

Love and courage,