the gift

i repeatedly turn it down
this small radiant gift
i am freely offered

a small hinged box or silken bag
that will open on infinity

for after all
how do i even know that
and why am i worthy?

and are there stings attached?

i would then feel obliged
to somehow repay
but that feels ok at least

i would feel more in control
and – oh – the instant has passed

it was just here and then

i doubted my little me again
it dimmed and receded into time

©John Greenleaf-Maple – text and art

2 thoughts on “the gift

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