No man is born an isle,
That's what my father told.
You can sit around and idle,
Until those gifts are unfold.

Such gifts are treasures,
You can do to make it precious.
More worth than gold and stone,
Someone whom you can lean on.

In the darkness of your heart,
Someone will and hear your part.
The reason for the loneliness,
To fade like problems without lies.

The reason you can love,
Can also be the reason to hate.
But such gifts are absolute fate,
One thing that you can improve.