A Certain Thing.

Dying is the gift she would not have
And though it was the best of gifts
And every thing she wanted was laid therein
She could not bear to receive it then.

Living was the hardest thing
And though she did not want it at all
And though she wanted nothing less
She could not bear the experience then.

Believing was the simple part
In a certain way at least
It all made so much sense to her
And alternatives were poor at best then.

Trusting was another thing
And was what she could not begin
To do herself within herself
To conquer all that shame and sin.

But then there was this certain thing
This thing she could not ignore
And a thing it was so unreal to her
But she so very much just wanted more.