I admit...
There are gifts and talents,
I was born with.
I never had desires to 'be'.
I just 'was'.
And took what I had for granted.
At one time I really did this.
I've been asked where I've studied.
And who has mentored me.
My response has always been The Creator.
To which then I get looks of disbelief.
And as I age and 'try' to mellow,
Others suggest I could be rich...
If I did 'this' and 'that' with my talents and gifts.
But things and bling and money it seems...
Has never attracted my consciousness.
If this happens to come to me as my Creator's wish,
Then by all means...
Those things will come to pay me a visit.
But thankful I am and tremendously blessed.
My Creator is my manager.
And I know what for me is best.
Perhaps my Creator,
Believes what I've been given is priceless.
And I have been nourishing myself,
With the feeding on delusions.
Whatever my Creator proposes,
Is the path I follow not to oppose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem