You

You are of little monetary value in yourself, but, to me you are the rarest of things; you are the wick on which my flame slowly burns; you are the gentle breath of wind that wakes me each day; you are my nourishment, the drink that sates my thirst and eases my being, you are as you have always been, my sun, my moon and the very earth on which I tread, you are my very purpose, and the reason I was gifted life; without you I am as a grain of sand lost in a desert of wandering footprints.