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Poem

Whatever comes our way is the thought of the many, but stop,
don't let admiration be a wasted tool given.
Express appreciation for the senses inside you,
a gift well deserving of the upmost praise.
Taste the bittersweet tinge of a lesson lived,
slowly adding to who you once were.
And savor the flavor of its brutal truth
as it causes the mind to confer.
Feel the vibration coursing among you
as the physical touch echos through.
And give with your hands what the world granted first,
one of many a task overdue.
Inhale the smell of a flower,
the scent of a faith carried dream.
Treasure the soul of creation,
make of it what it may seem.
Listen to words of the untold
from the mouth of the experienced one.
And from what you may hear live through all of your fear
for the battle has barely begun.
Observe with the sharpest of eyes,
to know without slightest of doubt,
that even though hardships can fill up a life
we'd be weak and defenseless without.
Surrender can never be chosen,
unless one choses for it to be,
but remember, my son, that through all of your travels
your senses will ever guide thee.

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