Why should I keep trying when no one seems to care?
Never mind who cares. See that flower?
Is it clamoring, "Look at me!"
and complaining because its tiny yellow jewel-flame
is half-hidden by its cinquefoil leaves?
Does it turn on and off its being
like a lamp and go dark
when I'm not here to appreciate its minute beauty?
Shining for self, our light goes dim. So, like the flower,
I'll shine,
caring not who cares, content to be
a witness to—and of—
God's glory.
