Gifts of natural ability,
Have been here forever more.
But somehow not always clearly seen,
Preferring we, to burn this gift clean.
Those observed as different,
We foolishly hung, high in trees.
Dunked hatefully beneath quiet lakes,
And burned loudly, upon torture stakes.
Do we yet not comprehend,
The ways of these gifted ones ?
Pay attention please to what is said,
Or before too long, we'll all be dead.
Reading palms can help to show,
A subtle life energy flowing below.
Even now the skin we're covered in,
Be not stained forever by our thoughtless sin.
Changes are but a life,
Whatever else we'd come to know.
I hope and pray we'd yet realise,
This obvious truth, set before our eyes.
Granted they, to see beyond,
Knowing even despite their fear.
The gifted shine the light ahead,
Helping where, our feet we tread.
From sacred days of old,
'Til this, our present time behold.
They have proffered on to us, this gift,
Helping unswervingly, our spirits lift.