Precious

What hurts most of the time, realizing, all that is precious will one day be lost
Yet having that acknowledgement, we failed to accept
Eventually, when the time comes, the pain dawns tremendously.

What hurts most of the time, knowing, we can't have all that is ever precious to us
Yet so dearly, and intensely, we yearn
Eventually, consumed by the pain, and we are gone.

What hurts most of the time, thinking, all that is precious will always remain
Yet only to be surprised by the truth, or merely taken aback by the facts
Eventually, it is sequential consequences, that we just ignored.

What is precious, and why it is precious?
Because we once have it, and then lost it?
We never have it, and wished for it?
We have it, and not appreciate it?

But what is truly precious
Is what we could have given, but we kept
Is what we could have shared, but we didn't
Is what we have, and not even realize it
Is who we are, and we disguised.

Who is far more precious?
You or me?