Don't bury me, I'm not dead yet.
There's too much life in this body
For me to give room to regret
There's too much left to do
And too much time to do it in
Too much in me still dances
Too much inside me still laughs and sings.
I've made many mistakes
I know you'll never forget
But don't bury me,
I'm not dead yet.
I bequeath to you today an unusual gift. Intangible and yet priceless. Not to be categorised among 'the little things'. This is a big thing - this is a big gift.
And it is necessary for every day. For the million and one little things that can go wrong. For the dark times. The sad times. The awful and bad times. The times of deep despair and despondence...
Sometimes falling becomes commonplace. An easy thing to do. And each time, getting up feels more like a chore. An increasingly difficult task to master. Sometimes finishing a race in which you've stumbled many times seems silly and unwise. Sometimes, giving a thing at which you've failed a second, third, fourth try seems like cruel and unusual self-punishment.
A fall can look like a fail. Especially when it's repetitive. The fallen can be branded a failure. Rising - or trying to - in the eyes of the onlooker, can seem like a symptom of stupidity. The fallen one, in the eyes of the observer, can be easily underestimated, underappreciated ... the fallen can be buried before the fallen is dead.
But don't listen to them! They don't know you. And they've never caught a glimpse of your heart. When the whole world decides you're over and done, know that I will NEVER give up on you. When everyone else has walked away, look up. See me waiting to see you rise.
Because I have given you this gift. And I wait to see you use it.
For all you are and ever hope to be ...
... I give you the will to rise.