ode of odes

a poem … is a story unto itself - an amalgam of glyphs and syntax arranged with carets and diacritical marks and woven with creative purpose to paint with phrase - to decorate life’s canvas with the colors of words and fringe the common with uncommon art … it has taken a lifetime, yet for me to comprehend the aims of your hearts and directed efforts though it has been gazing clearly into my being for more years than I care to count but now I see without aberration or err what your combined endeavors were focused upon … I am so much more than your child - so much more than procreation I am the word and phrase and punctuation of all you could interpret and instruct I am the rhythm and meter of your knowledge and wit I am the ordered stanzas of your hopes and wishes and the story of your stories … I am what I am because of you - because you took the best of all you had ever experienced and wove it into my soul to create art from mere flesh - to mold blood and marrow into a being of perfect imperfection to order the words and phrases and rhythms of your lives into something of worth and repletion and though I am as flawed as a human can be, I am also precious simply because you loved me - because you made me the creation of your best intent … I thank you, Mom and Dad with my life, entire and with all my remembrances for I am your story your painting of words … your poem.