Living

I will fill up my lungs with the cool wind

I will soak my pale face with warm sun

Dig my hands greedily into deep sand

And dare mountains and rivers to run 

I will work and work hard and grow tired

Taking joy in the work of my hands

Make the most of the gifts I’ve been given

Be the best at whatever I can

I will look for the lost and the lonely

Make my home a place they can come in

Do my best to give more than I’m taking

And turn new faces into old kin

For I used to be old, ill, and faded

I could barely remember a thing

Every movement restrained to a snail’s pace

When my soul only wanted to sing. 

So I’ll fill up each moment with purpose

While I’m young—not a second to waste

Giving glory to one who deserves it

All his goodness to see and to taste