Everything We Give Was Never Ours

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Everything we give was never ours.
It was a gift, as was life itself.
Dependent as we are, like fragile flowers,
An unborn soul is seed upon God's shelf.
Let yourself then meditate on this:
A sacrifice can be no sacrifice.
Death leaves one with nothing one might miss.
How can one think one owns what has no price,
As every gift one gives is given thrice.

Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.



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