Monday, April 04, 2005
but even the deepest well runs dry
reams of bond paper are eventually used up
the longest journey ends with the last step.
Infinite numbers could not be counted
try hard if you must… end I know not where
but end it will, no matter what.
Who can count after a thrillion
Or even a hundred million?
Strongest despots end their rule
either by them or for them;
whether a pound of flesh
or a trickle of blood have been spared--
if the dictatorship ends
out of a gnawing conscience
it, too, shall stop.
Even God’s emissary, the Pope dies.
Everything shall cease--
just like your breaking away
from what my house can offer,
leaving behind a limitless
protection that I so willingly give.
Yes, the time has come
for you to open your wings:
feel the gale and glide to where it will take you
open your eyes wide like I told you
crossing the street is not as easy as it looks.
There are roads without stoplights
even stoplights are being ignored..
Soon, my work is finally done
there’s nothing left to do
but watch you from afar.
I will never be able to write a poem about the love for a child and not consider it a confabulation. This I will never know, this I can only surmise.
And admire your work for the genuine thoughts and feelings they bring.