From Glory To Truth Poem by Bryan Taplits

What we have are gifts
And a Benefactor whom we can't ever requite,
They are given-ever piling up during the day-
And we unwrap them in the glowing moonlight.

All these memories, each which is held dear,
Are taken and granted as our due,
And these gifts in the night-which are swept towards our delight,
Are recognized as small trinkets-tokens of what is true.
But there is one snag thrown into the mix
These memoirs are viewed gilded-though they are not,
Like the sunrise they all lead to exciting new dawns
And like the sunset, dim into segments, lessons not learned-so forgot.

Yes, one of God's gifts is our memories
All of which are recalled as being so suave and assured,
We remember them all,
each large and unflawed,
But they are a fool's folly-since each plays better than they actually were.