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.
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