It is true that each of us is gifted,
Some with few, some are more talented;
How we manage what we are given,
Is what matters to the Gifter in heaven.
Money that is hid under the ground,
Is like a talent that has not been found;
It will be a waste of energy,
Not worthy of growth, no synergy.
Sometimes I think I’m losing the gift,
Between posting and commenting lies a rift;
Yet I haven’t found the purpose of my talent,
If not for the Gifter, for whom are my words spent?
I may be able to put words together,
But who does benefit, is it another?
If only for myself then I’m a sore loser,
It would be merely an attention grabber.
It would be nice to hear those praises,
But without purpose, I am deemed useless;
Unless someone’s heart is renewed,
With these words, hope was imbued.
If what I write is simply worth nothing,
But only to brag that I can write about anything;
If it does not at least inspire someone,
Then my words are empty for everyone.
Indeed, no man is an island,
We should live for others, be selflessly grand;
Even the plants and trees give oxygen for free,
Yet they are destroyed by the greedy humanity.
When shall we change to be useful to others,
When shall we think of our brothers and sisters?
Shall life simply meet its end,
Without meaningful growth to lend?