The gift

My gift to you is somewhat strange, it's hidden and silent, alone and unheard, but it still lives beneath the darkened sun, it's love and hope and joy and sight, it's knowing what's right and wrong, it cried for life, and I heard it cry, I've tried to lift its spirits high, to let other people wonder of its glow, its burn for eternal happiness, our burn for eternal peace. To give these it's hard, to respect them it's harder, I've watched others, and seen them turn inside out, lying through the pain of their gritted teeth, do they know of love? can they feel the hope? have they ever cried silent tears? I myself have cried those silent tears, alone and scared and silent, my pain was great, my anger uncontrollable, can you feel my hardship, my hunger of exit to this world? to have materials and possessions, I could never have used, but to have what I give, perhaps I could have coped, and that time would now be forgotten, so now I give, what I want in return, I give the golden rule. I've tried to lead others to peace as is I, but for this you need their total trust, and they would not risk it all, so the act of good came to a stop, and my hope was just left hanging, now I still give, and I do with all my heart, ...