The dewdrop on the spider’s web
that stretches from bough to post
the murmur of my love’s sweet voice
Or the smell of hot buttered toast.
All these are but part of life,
The greatest gift of all
A gift that needs not one defence:
For it is the gift of conscious experience.

The feel of wet sand in my toes
as I walk along the shore
The cry of gulls flying overhead
and the sound of the ocean’s roar.
The rising mist on the small lake yonder
as on life’s gifts I ponder
But, Ah, the greatest gift, sparing no expense
Is the gift of conscious experience.

Of the millions of stars in the sky above,
the earth itself is small
and on that earth, I am but a dot
insignificant compared with it all.
Of the millions of sperm
that on that night did swarm
I happened perchance to be born
and was given a gift, more precious than all
The gift of conscious experience

Our friend lay dying
and we were crying
when he murmured to us all:
Of course there’s regret,
but I will never forget
I was granted a gift,
the greatest of all -
The gift of conscious experience.

We were all silent then
and simply whispered,
Amen.

| Return to Poetry Index |
| Seniors-Site Homepage | E-Mail | Site Master |