the gift...

I weave words without whispering about the wishes that prompt them;
i close my eyes and feel the effective nuances that fold them within;
they transcend to light the world around me and give it meaning…
then I offer my gift to you…
i wait and watch for the subtle signs of approval to illuminate your features,
a smile, a gesture of acceptance, a word of appreciation…
and i take these tender gifts and shelter them deep inside my soul where they shine…
and make me whole…

Each day i weave and wait for your approval…each day you accept my gifts
offering me praise and promise…
i am only as relevant as my latest offering to you and only as
meaningful as your response…
the joy of you as you find meaning inside my words and love
inside my countenance are all that matter in this world…

then the day arrives when you no longer look into my eyes
with warmth and acceptance;
when you no longer acknowledge my gifts or find meaning
in my words – i die slowly and with great pain
as you rip my soul from its essence and fling it
into the darkness where nothing exists…
for i do not live if you reject my words
or deny their existence,
I am nullified, without meaning or purpose…

you tell me that your expectations have altered…
that i no longer move you…
you deny me what I need because you can—
it is within your power to execute me;
now each day I awake and build another tablet of longing
awaiting the final estimation of worth…
only now you pretend you received nothing—that
the words did not exist…
that you never saw them or read them or understood
the naked intent of their construction…

you offer me emptiness and negation…
i am relegated to nothing…
deep inside this void is assurity that the ceaseless
denial will continue well into the next
plea upon deaf ears…
my gift is left exposed on the counter where
a clerk will surely dispose of it…in due time…

the gift...

prism gates

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