I asked him once
what should I do?
He waited just one moment to reply.
"Would you enjoy me?"
"Why?" said I.
"There must be more that I could do?"
"More than my son achieved for you?"
"Well, what about the people who
have yet to know you, like I do?"
"But would they know me,
through knowing you,
if you didn't first enjoy me too?"
I stopped and pondered just a while
enough to think on what he'd said.
Could my heart be burning,
yet be dead?
Burnt out on all the things I'd said
that I would say and do?
"But what about the time I spend
reading all that I can each day,
giving myself in both work and play
to find out more in books and word?"
"Do they warm your heart to me?
Do they make your spirit sing
as the Spirit longs your soul to sing
with words that he would give to you?"
I stopped again and thought.
Though reading much, had I simply bought
self-satisfaction that I was
doing all I felt I ought to?"
"And if my heart was cold through all?"
"Then ask me to reveal myself instead.
And in play and work, in trial and ease,
don't feel like you have to appease
He walked the life you're trying hard
He lived it so you'd not have to.
No longer to tightrope walk the sense
that what you're doing's not enough,
Would you accept his life is enough for you?"
Speechless I saw his love,
clear as crystal light,
His son's life enough for me
and the helper who reminded me each day.
"It is enough," I smiled at him.
"Now enjoy me, son." His voice replied.