My friend told me the other day,
The words he was sure were to be written above my grave,
“Here he lays in the ground six feet deep,”
“The man never gave up, not even in his sleep,”
Which seems fitting for even in my dreams,
She brightens up like a flower in the sun’s beam,
I hold on tight, So I’ve been told,
An intense commitment that cannot be sold,
Giving up has not been in my vocabulary,
Until I think more about my adversary,

Giving up, what does that really mean?
Is it the cowboy’s hands up in the gun battle scene?
Or raising the white flag in the midst of a war?
Sending in the second string with a lopsided score?
Is it ending the race before crossing the finish?
By walking away, head down, feeling diminished?
How could it be that all of these discourage,
When “giving” and “up” are two words that nourish,
To “give”, one of the most fulfilling feelings,
“Up”, is where we look to our heavenly beings,
As I reflect upon this phrase from my narrow view,
I repurpose the vision from what’s been led askew,
I give up and raise it to the next level,
Do so with confidence, do so without tremble,
I give up to my maker so he may care and reveal,
This bridge that we cross is full of God’s zeal.