Imagine that you’re living and not just, “Attending,”
That your existence in the world has meaning beyond mere observance of your time extending,
That you’re not chained to some empty endless toil,
And your value as a person goes beyond the, “Skin deep,” which time will inevitably spoil,
That your hard won insights could be of use to others,
Your experience of truly living, as Father, Sister, Mother,
Could be shared and in that sharing bring a richness hitherto unfound,
To the benefit of those around, before you’re laid down in the ground,
Imagine that there is some lesson locked within your soul,
That when shared, would take the, “Broken,” and help to make them, “Whole,
Dare to dream that though your sorry flesh is weak,
Your word is strong and with that dream held close, speak,
 Speak of all the turmoil, heartache and joy that life has made you feel,
Facts are facts and you can’t change that, but speak of what those facts reveal,
“Attendance,” is just not enough, to benefit the group,
As the old saying goes, “Does the spoon know the taste of the soup?”
True enough, we don’t know the actual measure of our worth,
But time’s too short to waste a single moment as we walk this Earth,
And if your words are clothed in awkward silence, you must break it,
And share the revelation, that life is what you make it.

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