Make Sacrifices Sometimes
The sun cannot rise without chasing the moon,
The harvest won’t come if the seeds are not strewn.
To walk on a path where the greatness resides,
One must leave the shore and the comfort of tides.
For life is a ledger of give and of take,
And choices are anchors that we must forsake.
It isn't a loss when the spirit is wise,
To learn that we all must make sacrifices sometimes.
Consider the scholar in halls dim and deep,
Who barters his rest while the rest of us sleep.
He misses the party, the laughter, the light,
To trade for a future that’s steady and bright.
The ink on his fingers, the ache in his eyes,
Are tokens of growth in a quiet disguise.
He knows that the ladder he’s destined to climb,
Is built on the ruins of wasted-free time.
Or look to the athlete who rises at dawn,
When frost is still clinging to grass on the lawn.
The sweets are rejected, the muscles are strained,
For a moment of glory that’s hardly attained.
Each mile that is run in the biting of cold,
Is a debt paid in silver for dreams made of gold.
The body may tremble, the spirit may cry,
But the podium waits for the ones who apply.
The parent who sits by a cradle at night,
Relinquishing freedom for love that is right.
Their hobbies are shelved and their bank accounts drained,
So a small, fragile life can be loved and sustained.
They trade in their travels and nights on the town,
To see that a child wears a smile, not a frown.
In the weight of the burden, a miracle lies:
The deepest of joy through the heart's sacrifices.
The artist who starves for the sake of the brush,
Who finds a loud truth in a poverty's hush.
The worker who leaves for a land far away,
To send home the coin for a family’s stay.
The soldier who stands at the edge of the world,
Where the banners of safety are seldom unfurled.
They give up their "now" for a "someday" to be,
To keep us all safe and to keep us all free.
It isn’t a tragedy, though it may sting,
To let go of feathers to find your own wing.
For hands that are full cannot grasp something new,
And fields must be cleared for the green to push through.
The pride of the ego, the comfort of ease,
Must often be cast to the winds and the seas.
For nothing of value is cheapened by cost,
And nothing is gained until something is lost.
So when you are standing where crossroads divide,
And part of your heart wants to run back and hide,
Remember the oak that was once just a seed,
Relinquishing ground for the height it would need.
Reach for the stars with a clear, steady gaze,
And walk through the fire of the difficult days.
For the soul only reaches its loftiest heights,
When we learn how to make those brave sacrifices sometimes.
©A. Derek Catalano/Gemini
