It is a gift, I really wanted to give it.
I want all that it means.
I'm new, in an old way.
I know the procedure.
I know the elements.
I know the desires.
My gift is special.
It is one of a kind.
It is irreplaceable.
Though it feels insignificant,
I want it to complete me,
Not to leave a hole.
Not in my heart, my heart is overflowing
I can't tell where, but I feel it.
It gets bigger with my fears.
The closeness makes it smaller.
The comforting makes it less.
I don't know what is missing.
Direction, do I need a map?
Procedure, do I need a process?
Gratitude, do I need thanks?
Acknowledgment, is that what I need?
Order, maybe structure is what I seek?
This gift always gives,
The one most don't understand.
Submission is the gift, one that is never fully given.
When you have nothing left to give, it is over.
You have surrendered.
You must always give and He must always receive.
The Yin and the Yang of this lifestyle.
The purpose of your being.
Finding what fits in the whole, that is how we survive.
Written by TxPrincess for publication on LushStories Only!
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-poems/this-gift.aspx">This Gift</a>