The Greatest Gift of All
One morning as I
searched the meadow of my mind
I gazed across its
vistas hoping I would find,
Wisdom to end dark
patterns, and cycles that confound;
from self-made
weapons forged in life that often hold
me bound.
Then a voice of
softness, wise and firmly spake,
"Not
those who seek will find here, but those who come and make".
I
then created scenes from near and distant past;
Scenes
depicting choices made, and consequence amassed.
The voice then
said to look around, and see what I could see
My mind created
paths I've traveled, which then became the key;
Above each path a
word appeared, describing my desires,
Thoughts and
motives of my past and all that had transpired.
The natural man
and tendency from deep within then came
And looking past
the source of pain, sought someone else to blame.
"Surely
someone mean and vile hath brought to me this shame!"
But reason spoke
in piercing voice, declaring just my name.
Then humbled and
on fallen knee, with soul about to burst,
I sought to find a
trend, a theme, of why I'd been my worst.
The paths that led
to quick delights were short and never steep;
No sweat or pain,
just smooth terrain, their motive was always me.
Then recognizing
self to be the source of all my pain,
I asked the voice
to please make known a path of nobler gain.
And to the side of
where I spent the vastness of my life
A path emerged,
with sticks and stones, and steepness, and of strife.
Throngs of souls
just then emerged, encompassing where I'd trod
I watched them
seek for pleasures there, while they themselves applaud.
Yet on the nobler
path I saw but few souls climbing there;
Each had left the
path below without the need of fanfare.
Curious and
concerned I asked, "To what, seek these souls abroad?"
Further ahead I
looked and beheld a Grove called The
Gifts of God.
And in that grove
stood many a vial, of different shapes and size
With different
appeal, and some were concealed, but each stood tall in my eyes.
When those who had
left the valley below arrived at the sacred grove
Covered were they,
in blood sweat and tears, as long they each had strove.
I watched as they
opened the vials, and drank what they contained
Their joy became
full, their bodies were healed and they shared their gifts unrestrained.
From one vial was
given the gift of sight, to know the mysteries of God,
Another held the
gift of faith, and one to know true from fraud.
To some was given to
speak in tongues and others the gift to heal,
To others the
spirit of prophesy, and to me all those gifts were real.
I watched in
delight as those souls took their peace, and rested from their cares
While others
persisted in taking them in until each of the gifts became theirs.
Then marveling in
the scene which I saw, and feeling I'd seen the end
My thoughts were
dispelled, and hunches were quelled, as I heard the voice of my friend:
"To those who
sought gifts, and used them to bless the souls of those in need,
They'll come to
find one vial more, but only when absent of greed;
Who seek, and ask,
and pray in faith, and seek God in pure clarity,
The last gift,
though modest, is greatest of all, and is known as charity."
It stood apart
from other vials, and was housed at the top of the trail,
Through thistles
and thorns, and snares to forlorn all those who would there travail.
Its outward
appearance left nothing to desire; its size was rather small
It wasn't the gift
that most pursued, nor sought to possess at all.
For those who
persisted, arrived at long last, finally to obtain
Looked within and
took a drink, and were never the same again.
The voice then
said "And what hast thou learned?", as I looked back on my life
I searched my
heart as I paused to reflect on past grief, turmoil, and strife,
"In pursuit
of pleasure and selfishness and to all of those cares did I cling;
Though a man has
God's gifts, and knoweth all things, without divine love he is nothing."
Beautiful, Eric. Did you write this poem or, if not, do you know the author?
ReplyDeleteJenean Godbold
Thank you Jenean. I wrote it earlier this month. It was written to capture a journey I've been on for years, having found some gifts, and realized they were insignificant. Charity is everything. I'm glad you enjoyed it. :-)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful work Eric!! The strength that you two have forged, has helped me to stand firm and immovable in my resolve to stay the course, and push forward amidst the confusion and turmoil that I struggle with. I know you will be greatly blessed for your efforts! Thank you Eric! And thank you Julie! I look forward to meeting you two someday.
Delete"Charity is the pure love of Christ. It is the love that Christ has for the children of men and that the children of men should have for one another. It is the highest, noblest, and strongest kind of love and the most joyous to the soul" I remember reading one of John Pontious books, in which he described praying to have this gift. It was given to him for a day...but in this very imperfect world he couldn't handle it....it gives much pain for others, their sins and afliccions . True Christ love changes everything. (see 1 Nephi 11:23). Patty Hurt
ReplyDeleteThank you for this great insight Patty!
DeleteWhat an inspired and powerful, poem. Thank you, Eric. I can feel your deep goodness and insights in these words. Thank you for sharing and for the inspiration!
DeleteThanks for sharing Eric, really liked it.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful and inspired. Thank you for sharing it and for being a light!
ReplyDelete