Everything is a gift, from rising sun
to evening set: we are given heaven’s light
even as we journey into night,
and come to find another day is done;
the fires in the sky keep burning on
like memories, refusing to forget
how much we have been given, from evening set
to breaking dawn, and how much we carry on.
Some gifts will not be easy to accept
and I don’t know yet what tomorrow brings,
but every nightfall is a gift: believe
that heaven’s grace endures most in the things
we fail to see and struggle to accept
but slowly find the presence to receive.
from Calendrums ("Eulogies")
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