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We wear no crown of thorns
We have not been scourged by Pilate
Or carried a heavy wooden cross
From Gethsemane to Golgotha.
We dip our bread in wine at dawn
And feast at dusk with the setting sun.
Yet, we weave a mat of complaints
Crying out about unfulfilled desires
And carnal pleasures that would
Make even Epicureans catch their breath.
But, life is not an orgy of hedonism
And pleasure is not a god to be worshipped.
Therefore, as we reflect on our gifts today,
Let us learn to rise at dawn
With the trumpet of the cock
And resolve to discover a new gratitude.
This is the gratitude of opportunity
And joy in the opportunity to serve.
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Poetry: Gratitude
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