Sonrise

There's a spot in my life that's been void filled and I cry with a morbid intensity when I think of him as I do now. He's healed something baggage born so I can leave it in a waste basket. I can stare at his innocence for hours and plead for his happiness in all that I dosay--I double dare to be all he sees and desires not to dread. Swim pool water eyes glimpse his face, his manner mighty in cause and jolly at what his fantasies are. I've not missed anything so like this moment that I carry his picture, his soul, his incarnate within me---at all times. Worthy worry span my capabilities to challenge me for the "mirror mirror" my reflection is his reality; am I ready for/to be the casual task bearer for him to model to be himself and unlinked to the scattered Sociopotpourri he's likely to ever encounter. Not to shield or shell his karma Not to woe in his wilfulness Not to denegrate a copious freedom format for fatherson ambigupatriarchophobia decline but to hold him to my dear heart chest to die for him in allways to make him at no cost in allways a human being. a Bull for all seasons. I love you my sons.