To My Parents

I've learnt of you, To be. Chasing X and Y axis along the lines you've traced. But they don't work for me: Who, of sense-full beings can say I've been taught: By he, the Holy Ghost, and Mother Mary, when none but martyrs has claimed to be the such? And so I sit untaught. Unknown to paths other than those tossed before me in lazy matrimony. Enshrouded in false mysteries solved by but he whose mind but ticks on; beats to the pulse remnant beneath the useless shade. From its echo I enhance. From its echo I endure with waves of yearn. To be more than a source whose shadow bares none but semblance to itself. And hopefully, mine own will take shape unknown to those before it.