Gift

By Edward Taylor III

Watching atmosphere tears hit against the glass as I pass the time away considering the events of my day,

I start to realize the weight of troubles on my mind,

Trying not to stress I comfort myself knowing that I’m blessed,

But still there’s something else…?

A gift has been imparted to me, the remarkable ability to transfer pain, joy, love, & sorrow onto paper.

I understand that the gift I have received is one of many ways to explain the trials of life.

The emotions felt in every word are as sincere as the untainted love felt when a loving mother see’s her child for the first time.

I lookout scanning the dream like scene of trees dancing in the breeze, their leaves blending with the atmosphere tears, which fall from the sky above;

Then I hear the call, the same call my brothers & sisters hear when their gift beckons them,

It pull’s us into a realm of immeasurable creativity, inspiring works that will be etched onto the very tablet of time itself;

When our works are completed our emotions, our hearts, & our lives are then put on display.

You see us, you hear us, & you read us, this is who we are, gifts right there for the whole world to experience.

We are poets, song writers, musicians, & painters.

We are Artist…

We are Gifts…