The Cost of Being

The Cost of Being

In the quiet of the morning,
When the dew weeps unseen,
The soul whispers its longing:
“Will you rise, or will you dream?”

Cheap are the songs sung in comfort,
The hands that labor not the clay.
But costly is the fire that kindles,
Burning night to birth the day.

Do not seek the soft and fleeting,
The easy road, the untaxed breath.
For the spirit blooms in struggle,
And finds its life in death.

Cheap is the prayer that falters
When the storm begins to rise.
But costly is the surrender
That meets the tempest’s cries.

Will you offer only echoes,
Or dare to sound your voice?
The costly work is silence,
The costly work is choice.

O traveler on the boundless sea,
Throw your nets where shadows hide.
Cheap waters hold no treasures;
Depths will teach where truths abide.

Break the chains of fleeting pleasures,
Lay your pride beneath the sun.
The costly path is narrow,
But it leads where dreams are spun.

In the temple of the heart’s becoming,
Only flame will mark the way.
Cheap sparks may flicker briefly,
But costly fires forever stay.

So kneel not to the fleeting mirage,
Rise to meet the alchemist’s call.
For the costly work of the spirit
Is the greatest work of all.

Charles Alvis