There are millions of gifts to give,
Millions of gifts to receive and reject,
But only one that really matters.
There is only one gift that can be happiness,
And yet be melancholy all the same.
This gift we all have, from the youngest to the eldest,
From the strongest to the weakest,
From the kindest to the meanest,
From the ones who just received it, to the ones about to lose it.
The gift which some thank the stars and heaven for daily.
The gift which some hate and curse the giver for having given it to them.
The gift, which I, cannot thank the lord enough for having given it to me.
The gift which at times I may want to give away or give back
The gift for which we all exist.
This gift is not perfect, nor shall it ever be.
The gift which can be manipulated for good or for bad.
The gift which can be changed with time or all too of a sudden.
The gift which some uphold proudly, while others try to hide it with shame.
The gift we are all given, to choose what we do with it. The gi